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RECOLLECTION  8 


OF  A 


REBEL  SURGEON 


(  AND  OTHER  SKETCHES) 


OR 


IN  THE  DOCTOR'S  SAPPY  DAYS 


BY 


F.  E.   DANIEL,   M.  D, 


ILLUSTRATED. 


1899: 

VON    BOECKMANN,    SCHUTZC    &    CO. 
AUSTIN,   TEXAS. 


COPYRIGHT,  1899,  by  F.  E.  DANIEL. 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

MY    FRIEND, 
THE  GENIAL  AND  GENTLE 

SWEARINGEN, 
KNIGHTLY  SOLDIER,  WISE  PHYSICIAN, 

MODEL  MAN, 

THIS  UNPRETENTIOUS  LITTLE  BOOK 
IS  LOVINGLY  DEDICATED. 


M12833 


CONTENTS, 


Introductory. 


ERRATA. 

On  page  123,  3rd  and  4th  lines,  for  "primative"  read 
"primitive,"  and  for  "solider's"  read  "soldier's". 

On  pages  134  and  125,  for  "malinguerers"  read  "ma 
lingerers". 

On  page  129,  for  "Grant"  read  "Sherman". 

On    page    157,   for   "Chattanooga    Telegraph"    read 
"Chattanooga  Rebel". 

On  page  219,  near  bottom,  for  "funeral"  read  "fu 
nereal". 

On  page  232,  for  "conquored"  read  "conquered". 
[There  may  be  others;  these  are  all  I  have  found. — D.] 


Dr.  Dick  Taylor,  of  Memphis. 
A  Close  Call:    A  Bad  Run,  and  a  Worse  Stand. 


CONTENTS. 


Introductory. 
The  Old  Doctor  Talks:    His  Retroscope. 

Sunshine  Soldiering. 

Disinterested  Solicitude. 

The  Doctor  Gets  Dinner. 

How  the  Big  Dog  Went. 

Bill  and  the  Bumble-bee's  Nest. 

The  Doctor  Takes  Supper  With  One  of  the  F.  F.  Vs. 

The  Doctor  Routs  the  Federal  Army. 

A  Violent  Eruption  of  "Lorena." 

Crossing  the  Cumberland. 

An  Extensive  Acquaintance. 

A  Brush  With  the  Seminary  Girls. 

The  Doctor  Takes  Breakfast  With  the  Yankees. 

Perryville:    The  Doctor  Scents  the  Battle  From  Afar. 

Questionable  "Spoils." 
Recollections  of  Bacon  (Likewise,  of  Pork). 

Somebody's  Darling. 

A  "Small  Game,"  and  a  Big  Stake. 

The  Little  Captain's  Toast,  and  What  Happened. 

Bushwhackers  After  the  Doctor. 

A  Frog  Story. 
Poking  Fun  at  the  Medical  Director. 

Dr.  Dick  Taylor,  of  Memphis. 
A  Close  Call:    A  B<vd  Run,  and  a  Worse  Stand. 


The  Doctor  Smuggles  Contraband  Supplies. 

The  Hospital  Soldier. 

The  Hospital  Dietary. 

A  "Medical"  High-Daddy. 

His  Idea  of  Happiness. 

Why  He  Was  Weary. 

Hospital  Experiences. 

Enchanted  and  Disenchanted. 

The  Clever  Quartermaster:    A  Romance  of  Army  Life 
in  Chattanooga. 

Love's  Stratagem:   The  Doctor  Puts  Up  a  Job  on  the  Major. 
Story  of  a  Stump. 

When  the  Dogwoods  Were  in  Bloom:    A  Fish 
Story  With  Trimmin's. 

Confederate  States  Shot  Factory:   ("Limited.")  (Very.) 

Dr.  Yandell  and  the  Turkey. 

Old  Sister  Nick:    Piety  and  Pies. 

Wisdom  in  a  Multitude  of  Counsel.    (Nit.) 

A  Night  at  Meridian. 
A  Chapter  for  Doctors  Only. 
In  the  Land  of  the  Blue  Dog. 

Jimmie  Was  All  Right. 

Circumstances  Alter  Cases:    Any  Port  in  a  Storm. 

Uncle  Hardy  Mullins:    The  Ways  of  Providence. 

The  Little  Hu-gag,  and  the  Great  American  Phil-li-lieu. 

The  Doctor  Sees  a  Lady  Home. 

Fine  Points  in  Diagnosis. 

One  on  Thompson. 

Halcyon  Days. 

The  Doctor's  Lament. 

The  Doctor  Seeks  Comfort  in  the  Bible:   What  He  Found. 


ILLUSTRATIONS, 


AN  EXTENSIVE  ACQUAINTANCE. 

"How  are  you,  Dick-ey?" 

THE  STORY  OF  A  STUMP. 

"Hurried  to  join  the  boys  at  the  front." 

"Fighting,  foremost,  fell." 
"Carried  bleeding  to  the  rear." 

"Cut  'er  off,  Doctor." 
'Poor  old  Confed.    Despised  old  Rebel." 

SISTER  NICK:    PIETY  AND  PIES. 

"The  Lord  will  purvide." 
"Ellen,  the  pie-ist." 

IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  BLUE  DOG. 

"Wh-i-c-h?" 

"This  is  hit." 

"Doin'  nothin'  but  lookin'  sorry." 


INTRODUCTORY.,- 


OFFICK  TEXAS  MEDICAL  JOURNAL, 
AUSTIN,  TEXAS,  1899. 

THE  OLD  DOCTOR— the  narrator  of  these 
reminiscences,  is  well  known  to  the  readers 
of  The  Texas  Medical  Journal.  He  is  the 
Journal's  "Fat  Philosopher/'  "Our  Genial  Friend/' 
"The  Jolly  Old  Doctor/'  etc.,  as  he  is  variously 
called,  through  whom  the  editor  has  for  some  years 
gotten  off  "good  jokes/'  especially  on  himself ;  and 
who,  now  and  then,  has  been  in  the  habit  of  drop 
ping  in  in  the  Journal's  sanctum  and  regaling  ye 
tired  editor  and  employes  with  his  humorous  views 
of  things. 

It  is  an  interesting  and  somewhat  remarkable 
fact  that  most  Southern  men,  especially  of  the 
older  generation,  however  well  educated,  and  who 
write  and  speak  the  English  language  correctly, 
nevertheless,  in  their  familiar  social  intercourse 
make  use  of  expressions  which  they  know  to  be 
grammatically  incorrect.  I  attribute  it  largely,  if 
not  altogether,  to  early  associations  with  the  black 
slaves  of  the  South,  our  nurses  in  childhood.  It 
is  disappearing  with  the  younger  generations.  It 
is  not  "slang"  so  much  as  a  corruption  or  mispro 
nunciation  of  words,  or  the  lack  of  a  distinct  pro- 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

mmciation  of  each  syllable,  and  the  consequent 
,  ru:anmg  together  of  words.  For  illustration,  take 
,the  very  general  use  of  such  words  as  "ca'nt," 
"dont,"  "air  V  '"wa'nt,"  "twa'nt,"  "narry,"  (never 
a)  etc.,  words  proper  enough  if  pronounced  and 
used  as  they  should  be;  but  custom  has  sanctioned 
the  use  of  a  plural  noun  with  a  verb  singular,  and 
vice  versa,  and  we  have  such  vulgarisms  as  "they 
das'nt"  (dares  not),  and  "he  dont,"  etc. 

There  are  many  words  and  expressions  in  general 
use  in  the  South  which  have  become  idiomatic,  hav 
ing  lost  their  original  meaning,  and  acquired  a 
significance  altogether  different.  "Shonuff,"  one 
of  the  commonest  words  in  daily  use  in  the  more 
familiar  intercourse, — for,  in  polite  society  when 
one  is  on  his  "pV  and  "q's"  he  doesn't  use  such 
words, — is  used  in  a  sense  of  "real"  or  "true,"  as 
opposed  to  false  or  pretended,  and  not  in  the  sense 
of  "sure  enough"  or  of  "certainty."  Another 
word  of  the  kind  is  "sorter."  One  would  think  it 
was  used  in  a  sense  of  "sort  of"  or  "kind  of,"  but 
not  so.  "Sorter"  indicates  degree.  But  of  all  the 
words  of  this  kind  in  general  use,  and  with  a  per 
verted  meaning,  I  believe  that  "tollible"  is  the  com 
monest  and  most  generally  employed  by  black  and 
white,  and  by  well  educated  persons.  Naturally 
one  would  suppose  that  it  meant  "tolerable,"  that 
which  can  be  tolerated,  or  borne.  But  it  has  ac 
quired  a  meaning  altogether  different,  and  is  used 
and  intended  as  a  qualifying  adverb.  Few  persons 


INTRODUCTORY. 

seem  able  to  find  any  other  word  with  which  to 
express  the  state  of  health  of  either  themselves 
or  their  f amity;  and  when  interrogated  on  that 
head,  the  invariable  reply  is  "tollible,"  or  "just 
tollible."  I  have  been  told  of  an  old  farmer  who 
looked  up  the  word  in  the  dictionary,  and  was  much 
disgusted  to  find  it  spelled,  as  he  said,  "entirely 
wrong,"  and  having  a  meaning  altogether  different 
from  the  accepted  one;  and  he  said: 

"Webster  is  away  off  on  'tollible.'  He  spells  it 
with  an  tfer/  and  says  it  means  'that  which  can  be 
endured  or  tolerated/  when  you  and  I  and  every 
other  fool  knows  that  it  dont  mean  any  such  thing. 
I  say  'my  health  is  tollible/  Dont  any  fool  know 
that  good  health  is  not  endured  or  borne  or  tol 
erated?" 

Notwithstanding  what  has  been  said  about  en 
during  or  tolerating  good  health,  there  is  a  large 
class  of  Southern  people  who  invariably  speak  of 
"enjoyin'  very  poor  health,"  in  a  sense  of  "having" 
poor  health. 

Of  this  class  of  expression  I  must  mention  the 
very  general  use  of  "I  used  to  could,"  or  "I  used 
to  couldn't"  do  a  certain  thing. 

There  is  another  peculiarity  of  the  Southern  ver 
nacular:  It  is  the  pronunciation,  or  rather,  the 
mispronunciation  of  certain  words.  For  instance: 
We  do  not  say  "corn,"  but  "cawn";  New  York  is 
"New  Yawk";  Saturday  is  "Saddy,"  and  dog  is 
"dawg." 

3 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Some  years  ago  while  attending  a  meeting  of 
the  American  Medical  Association  in  Washington 
city,  as  a  delegate  from  Texas,  I  had  the  honor  to 
be  the  guest  of  my  distinguished  friend,  the  late 
Doctor  Baxter,  Surgeon- General  of  the  army.  He, 
like  myself,  was  very  fond  of  fishing;  and  after  the 
business  was  finished  which  took  me  to  Washing 
ton,  we  went  down  the  Potomac  to  "Four-Mile- 
Kun"  fishing  for  "porgies,"  the  doctor  called  them. 
I  didn't  know  what  a  '"porgie"  was;  they  don't 
grow  in  Texas.  Presently  the  doctor  caught  a  fish 
that  was  new  to  me,  and  I  asked : 

"Doctor,  is  that  a  'porgie'  or  a  trout  ?" 
He  laughed  immoderately  at  my  pronunciation 
of  "trout." 

He  said:  "Listen  at  Dan'els  calling  a  'trowt' 
(heavy  accent  on  the  "w")  a  'trut.'  " 

I  said:  "Listen  at  Baxter  calling  a  trout  a 
'trowt/  " 

That  was  Vermont  against  Virginia;  and  while 
there  was  a  big  difference  in  our  pronunciation,  I 
observed  with  some  surprise  that  he  said  "listen 
at."  Until  that  time  I  had  supposed  that  "listen 
at"  was  a  Southern  vulgarism. 

Many  words  are  pronounced  differently  north  and 
south.  There  are  many  exceptions.  There  is  one 
brilliant  exception  which  I  trust  indulgent  readers 
will  pardon  me  for  mentioning  in  this  connection : 
It  is  a  proper  noun,  and  is  universally  mispro 
nounced.  Yea,  from  Maine  to  Mexico;  from  Key 
4 


INTRODUCTORY. 

West  to  Klondike;  from  Carolina  to  far  Cathay; 
from  Alabama  to  the  Aleutian  Islands, —  by  native 
and  foreign, — by  Jew,  Gentile, . Pagan  and  Poet; 
by  Scot  and  Hun,  Frank  and  Celt,  saint  and  sin 
ner,  the  patrician  patronym  "Daniel"  is  called 
"Dan'els,"  with  a  long  accent  on  the  first  syllable, 
and  an  extra  "s"  is  tacked  on. 
*"I  have  studied  "Trenck  on  Words";  I  have  dip 
ped  more  or  less  into  philology,  and  I  can  under 
stand  how  the  beautiful  Virginia  name  "Fontle- 
roy"  same  down  through  the  generations  from 
"Enfants  de  le  Roi"  the  inscription  on  the  banner 
of  the  Crusaders  carried  by  the  ancestors  of  that 
old  family;  I  can  understand  that  "Toliver"  and 
"Smith"  are  the  same  name;  "Toliver"  being  a 
corruption  of  "Talliafero,"  which  means  a  "worker 
in  iron," — hence,  a  smith, — hence,  "Smith."  But 
for  the  life  of  me  I  cannot  understand  by  what  uni 
versal  perverseness  my  name  should  be  and  is  dis 
torted  into  "Dan'els."  It  is  provoking;  but.,  then, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it? 

For  the  purposes  of  these  few  brief  and  unpre 
tentious  sketches  the  Old  Doctor  is  a  portly  gentle 
man  of  sixty  years  of  age,  with  a  benevolent  counte 
nance  which  is  always  upon  the  point  of  breaking 
out  into  wreathes  of  smiles,  while  little  dabs  of 
humor  hang  from  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  fun 
twinkles  in  his  honest  blue  eyes.  He  resides  at  the 
classical  village  of  "Hog  Wallow,"  this  county,  and 
he  honors  the  Journal  with  a  visit  every  time  he 
5 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

comes  to  Austin.  He  is  a  typical  Virginia  gentle 
man  of  the  older  generation,  and  like  all  others 
of  his  class,,  when  his  reserve  is  thrown  off,  in 
familiar  social  intercourse,,  he  uses  the  idioms  that 
characterize  the  educated  men  of  the  Old  South. 
Unknown  to  the  doctor,  we  rigged  up  a  phono 
graph  inside  of  the  desk  at  which  he  always  sits, 
concealed  by  a  thin  curtain,  and  we  have  been  en 
abled  thus  to  catch  his  interesting  talks  with  all 
the  sparkle  and  snap  of  spontaneity, — their  prin 
cipal  charm. 

As  will  be  seen  upon  examination,  the  following 
reminiscences  are  mostly  humorous  (alleged)  ; 
some  are  sad;  some  pathetic;  and  they  were  all 
actual  occurrences;  no  fiction,  but  all  fact.  They 
do  not  relate  to  the  professional  duties  of  the  army 
surgeon, —  (as  might  be  supposed  from  the  title  of 
the  book), — but  very  little;  but  are,  for  the  most 
part,  recollections  of  fun,  frolic,  fishing  or  flirting, 
as  the  case  may  be,  "endurin'  of  the  war/7  in  the 
doctor's  "sappy"  days.  To  these  have  been  added 
a  few  of  the  Old  Doctor's  later-day  observations, 
which,  while  irrelevant  to  the  subject  proper,  it  is 
thought  are  too  good  to  keep. 

F.  E.  DANIEL,  M.  D. 


RECOLLECTIONS 

OF  A 

REBEL  SURGEON. 


THE  OLD  DOCTOR  TALKS-HIS 
RETROSCOPE. 


OFFICE  TEXAS  MEDICAL  JOURNAL,. 
AUSTIN,  TEXAS,  1899. 

THE  OLD  DOCTOK  sat  down  in  our  easy 
chair,,  as  usual,  it  being,  by  common  consent, 
even  of  the  office  boy,  understood  to  be  pre 
empted  by  and  for  him  whenever  he  should  drop 
in;  and  without  any  preliminaries,  began: 

When  the  war  broke  out  I  was  not  quite  twenty- 
two.  The  battle  of  Bull  Eun  (18th  of  July,  1861) 
was  fought  on  my  twenty-second  birthday,  and  I 
was  there  with  a  musket,  a  private  soldier. 

I  cast  my  maiden  vote  against  secession,  I  want 
it  remembered;  by  posterity,  especially,  as  it  is  a 
matter  of  great  importance  to  the  truth  of  history. 
I  was  opposed  to  secession,  not  because  I  thought 
the  South  was  not  justified,  under  the  circum 
stances,  but  because  I  did  not  believe  there  was  * 
possibility  of  the  South's  being  permitted  to  "go 
7 


KECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

in  peace."  The  love  of  the  Union  was  strong,  and 
the  opposition  to  slavery,  the  result  of  the  fifty 
years  quarrel  over  it,  had  attained  almost  the 
aspects  of  a  religious  crusade.  What  the  South 
claimed  as  a  right,  guaranteed  by  the  Constitution, 
the  North  regarded  as  a  monstrous  wrong,  an  evil 
which  had  been  tolerated  as  long  as  an  advanced 
civilization  and  a  growing  humanity  would  permit, 
and  the  abolition  party,  the  strongest  in  the  North, 
practically  said :  "Constitution  be  hanged,  the  evil 
of  slavery  is  a  blot  on  civilization  and  must  go"; 
and  it  went, — and  I  am  glad  it  went.  Although 
a  slave  owner  myself,  and  my  family  had  been  for 
generations,  I  was  an  advocate  of  gradual  emanci 
pation.  Hence,  recognizing  that,  call  it  by  what 
ever  name  we  will,  put  the  pretext  for  secession  on 
"principle,"  State  Eights,  or  what  not ;  refine  it  as 
we  will,  slavery  was  the  real  issue  of  the  war ;  and 
it  goes  without  saying  that  had  the  South  gained 
independence  slavery  would,  in  all  human  proba 
bility,  have  still  been  an  "institution"  in  the  coun 
try.  Hence,  as  I  said,  I  was  opposed  to  the  war 
from  every  standpoint.  In  the  first  place  the  hope 
of  coping  successfully  against  such  great  odds  as 
the  South  had  to  encounter  was  a  forlorn  hope, 
indeed;  and  if  there  were  any  in  the  South  who 
hoped  for  "peaceable  secession"  they  were  badly 
left.  But  when  the  State,  my  State,  then, — Missis 
sippi,  seceded,  and  the  alternative  was  to  take  up 
arms  for  or  against  the  South,  there  were  no  two 
8 


THE    OLD   DOCTOR   TALKS. 

ways  about  it,  and  I  joined  the  first  company  ready 
to  leave  my  town. 

So,  the  war  came  on;  my  vote  didn't  stop  it  yon 
see,  and  everybody  had  to  go  in  the  army.  Those 
that  did'nt  volunteer  were  made  to  "volunteer"; 
see  ?  Funny  thing  how  some  fellers  can  sit  in  offices 
and  send  you  and  me  and  every  other  feller  out  to 
fight,  whether  we  want  to  go  or  not;  when,  in  fact, 
we  had  rather  stay  at  home  and  play  marbles,  or 
hunt  the  festive  squirrel,  or  spark  the  girls;  eh, 
Daniels  ? 

And,  Dan'els  (he  always  would  call  me  "Dan- 
'els,  confound  him),  looking  back  at  it  now 
through  the  vista  of  thirty  odd  years, — you  are,  I 
believe,  a  just  man,  a  good  man, — my  wife  says  I 
am,  but  then  she  is  partial,  you  know,  I  don't  see 
how  you  and  I  and  others  of  our  sort  could  ever 
for  a  moment  have  tolerated,  condoned,  thought 
slavery  was  right.  Well,  we  were  born  into  the 
world  and  found  it  here,  and  thought  not  much 
about  it  at  first.  But  there  is  no  consideration  that 
could  now  induce  us  to  have  it  restored;  we  are 
happily  rid  of  it.  Why,  we  smile  at  the  blindness 
and  bigotry  of  good  "old  Mrs.  Watson,"  who  was 
so  grieved  because  she  could  not  Christianize  Huck 
Finn;  at  the  same  time  she  was  offering  a  reward 
of  $200  for  the  arrest  of  her  run-a way-nigger,  Jim, 
and  proposed  to  sell  him  for  $800.  Yet  she  was 
but  the  type  of  many  thousands  of  truly  pious  peo 
ple  in  the  South,  who  saw  nothing  un-Christian 
9 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

in  selling  a  "nigger."  And  that,  Dan'els,  only 
thirty  odd  years  ago.  Doesn't  is  look  paradoxical 
even  to  us,  the  survivors  of  the  terrible  struggle  ? 

But  look  here,  Dan'els,  I  don't  like  to  talk  about 
unpleasant  things;  it's  against  my  principles,  and 
it's  against  the  principles  of  my  Eetroscope. 

"What  is  your  Eetroscope,  Doctor?" 

Dan'els,  said  he,  when  you  were  a  boy  did  you 
ever  look  through  the  butt-end  of  a  telescope  ? 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  I;  "why?" 

Didn't  it  make  things  look  away  off  yonder? 
That's  the  way  the  war  looks  now;  it  seems  like  it 
was  a  thousand  years  ago.  But  I  have  an  instru 
ment  of  my  own  invention  which  not  only  brings 
things  near,  like  a  telescope  does  when  the  little 
end  is  used;  but  when  I  look  into  the  past  it  has 
not  only  the  faculty  of  making  things  look  like 
'twas  only  yesterday,  but  it  brings  the  past  in  re 
view  before  me  in  sections,  with  the  added  effect 
of  bringing  out,  conspicuously  and  in  bold  relief, 
all  the  pleasant  things,  all  the  funny  things,  all 
the  amusing  or  ridiculous  memories,  and  of  sup 
pressing  or  effacing  the  painful,  disagreeable  ones, 
or  rounding  off  the  rough  edges,  at  least.  It's  a 
fact.  When  we  look  back  at  the  war,  with  all  its 
horrors  and  sufferings,  it  is  remarkable  that  my 
memory  brings  to  light  mainly  the  funny  side,  or 
the  pleasant  side  of  those  days  of  privations  and 
sacrifice  and  suffering. 

I  reckon  my  Retroscope  is  something  like  Edi- 
10 


THE    OLD    DOCTOR   TALKS. 

son's  great  invention,  whereby  he  grinds  granite 
mountains  into  fine  dust,  and  separates  all  the  iron 
ore, — the  only  valuable  part,  and  sells  it.  My 
"machine"  extracts  and  parades  before  my  mind 
only  the  laughable  or  pleasant  incidents  of  that 
painful  period;  and  there  is  a  lot  of  it;  and,  good 
Lordy, — what  a  lot  of  worthless  "sand."  They  say, 
tho',  that  Edison  has  found  a  market  even  for  his 
sand;  the  iron  sells  itself. 

(Here  the  Old  Doctor  took  out  his  knife  and 
chipped  a  splinter  from  the  edge  of  the  desk,  and 
shaping  out  a  tooth  pick,  leaned  back  in  my  easy 
chair,  and  closing  his  eyes  ruminated  a  little.) 

Sell  the  best  part  of  my  "sif  tings"  ?  Make  mar 
ketable  my  recollections  of  the  funny  things  that 
happened  during  the  war?  said  he.  Jokin',  ain't 
you,  Dan'els?  Well,  I'll  ask  my  wife  about  it. 
There's  a  lot  of  "trash"  on  the  literary  market 
now,  and  they  do  say  there's  money  in  "junk." 
We  would  have  to  call  it  "Placer  Mining  for 
Jokes,"  eh,  Dan'els  ?  But  I  tell  you  here  and  now, 
I  can't  talk  to  order,  nor  talk  to  a  machine;  so,  if 
you  want  to  get  down  any  of  my  recollections  you'll 
have  to  stenograph  it  without  my  knowledge;  and 
if  you  sell  it  you've  got  to  give  me  half ;  you  hear  ? 

(It  was  then  we  put  in  the  phonograph,  as  stated 
in  the  Introductory,  and  the  Doctor  does  not  know 
to  this  day  that  he  has  been  "taken  down" ;  a  pretty 
good  joke  itself.) 

11 


KECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  KEBEL  SURGEON. 


SUNSHINE  SOLDIERING, 


"There's  a  fascination  in  the  beginning  of  all  things." 

WHAT   crude   conceptions   of   war   we   did 
have,  to  be  sure!  said  the  Old  Doctor. 
(He  had  come  into  the  office  in  a  reminis 
cent  mood,  it  was  evident;  and  taking  his  cus 
tomary  seat  began  at  once  to  talk  of  the  past,  all 
unconscious  of   the   fact   that   even   his   gurgling 
laugh  was  being  faithfully  recorded.     What  a  pity 
it  cannot  be  reproduced  on  paper ! ) 

When  we  went  into  camp,  out  in  an  adjoining 
old  field  near  our  town,  each  company  had  its  clean 
new  tents,  and  every  man  a  cot  and  comfortable 
things,  and  it  was  a  picnic.  It  was  real  fun.  Noth 
ing  to  do  but  drill  a  little,  and  have  dress  parade, 
—and  the  balance  of  the  day  lie  in  our  tents,  or 
under  the  shade  of  the  big  oaks  and  read.  It  was 
in  the  lovely  month  of  May,  a  time  when  nature  is 
at  her  best,  and  all  things  are  lovely.  Oh,  the  rec 
ollection  of  those  days !  The  ladies  would  come 
out  from  town  to  visit  the  boys  and  witness  dress 
parade;  and  the  cakes,  and  pies,  and  the  roast  tur 
keys,  and  the  sweets  of  all  kinds !  ( No  wonder 
diarrhoea  soon  broke  out  in  camp.)  The  boys, — 
they  were  all  "boys,"  however  mature,  were  simply 
deluged  with  flowers.  The  bouquets  we  did  get,  to 
be  sure !  And  every  feller  had  a  sweetheart,  of 
course.  Such  times !  Oh,  the  glorious  days  of 
12 


I 

SUNSHINE    SOLDIEKING. 

youth.,  when  the  blood  is  warm  and  quick, — and 
"the  heart  beats  high  at  the  glance  of"  Susan 
Maria's  "eye/'  or  words  to  that  effect.  We  just 
ate  and  flirted  and  drilled  and  played  soldier. 

It  was  too  good  to  last;  and  bye  and  bye  com 
panies  began  to  be  assembled  at  various  rendezvous, 
and  regiments  to  be  formed,  and  we  went  to  Cor 
inth.  Now,  as  James  Whitcomb  Riley  says  of 
"Jim,"  that  he  was  just  as  good  soldierin'  as  he 
was  "no  'count  farrnin'," — Corinth  was  just  as 
disagreeable  as  Jackson  had  been  pleasant.  We 
left  all  the  girls  behind, — and  the  pies,  made  by 
feller's  mothers, — not  your  army  pies  of  a  subse 
quent  date,  of  which  I  will  tell  you  some  day.  We 
left  the  bouquets  and  the  good  victuals,  and  the 
smiles  all  behind  us;  tho'  the  soldier  was  smiled 
on  all  along  the  road,  and  everywhere,  at  first,  by 
all  the  ladies,  and  there  was  an  added  charm  to 
the  soldier's  life.  All  conventionalities  were  set 
aside;  every  soldier  was  petted,  and  he  could  talk 
to  the  girls  without  an  introduction.  All  social 
distinctions  were  brushed  away,  and  every  soldier, 
however  humble,  was  a  hero.  The  ladies  would 
give  him  flowers,  and  praise  him;  tell  him  what 
a  fine  soldier  he  was,  as  they  pinned  them  on  for 
him.  And,  Dan'els,  between  me  and  you,  that  is 
one  thing  that  made  our  boys  so  brave,  and  made 
them  endure  privations  with  such  fortitude;  the 
thought  of  what  would  be  said  of  him  at  home. 
It  is  pride,  pride  of  character  that  makes  a  soldier 
13 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

brave.  But  for  that,  there  are  few  who  would 
"seek  the  bubble  reputation  at  the  cannon's 
mouth/5 1  tell  you ;  for  it  ain't  any  fun,  you  bet. 

To  give  you  an  idea  of  my  conception  of  war, — 
notwithstanding  I  had  read  a  great  deal  of  history, 
of  course, — I  took  along  a  sole-leather  valise  with 
me,  full  of  broadcloth  suits,  patent  leather  shoes, 
linen  shirts,  fancy  socks  and  ties.  I  had  an  idea 
(what  a  fool  I  was),  that  both  armies  would  march 
out  in  an  open  place  and  meet  by  a  kind  of  under 
standing,  and  after  a  few  selections  by  the  band, 
go  to  fighting;  and  at  sunset,  or  sooner,  the  one 
that  whipped  would  have  some  more  music  by  the 
band,  and  then  we'd  retire.  We  were  to  be  the 
ones  that  whipped,  of  course; — and  then  for  the 
social  part  of  it ;  and  there  is  where  the  good  clothes 
were  to  come  in,  see? 

And,  do  you  know,  every  feller  in  our  company, 
—it  was  made  up  of  college  boys  or  young  profes 
sional  men,  society  men, — the  "better  class"  so- 
called, — took  along  a  trunk  full  of  the  same  kind  of 
clothes?  The  last  I  ever  saw  of  my  sole-leather 
valise  and  my  good  clothes,  my  long-tailed  coat  and 
my  pretty  socks  and  cravats  and  things,  was  at  Man- 
assas  Junction.  Came  an  order  that  all  baggage  was 
to  be  sent  to  the  rear ;  that  every  feller  was  to  carry 
his  outfit  on  his  back,  like  a  snail  or  turtle  (except 
that  we  had  knapsack  and  the  turtle  didn't). 
And  one  blanket,  rolled  lengthwise  and.  swung 
around  the  neck  was  to  be  his  bed.  This,  with  the  old 
14 


SUNSHINE    SOLDIERING. 

Springfield  rifle  (with  which  we  were  first  armed, 
weighing  about  fifteen  pounds),  a  heavy  leather 
cartridge  box  full  of  bullets,  a  tin  canteen,  a  white 
cotton  bag  swung  from  the  neck  to  hold  your  grub, 
constituted  our  outfit;  and  instead  of  fine  clothes 
we  were  reduced  to  a  coarse  gray  flannel  shirt,  blue 
cotton  pants  and  a  belt.  That  was  our  summer 
rig;  pretty  tough,  wasn't  it? 

At  first  we  all  had  tents, — each  tent  a  fly,  which 
we  stretched  in  front  of  the  tent  as  a  kind  of  front 
gallery,  a  tent  to  each  eight  boys.  We  had,  each 
mess,  a  camp  kettle  of  sheet  iron,  about  the  size  of 
a  small  nail  keg,  and  we  had  tin  cups  and  tin  plates 
and  iron  knives  and  forks  and  spoons.  Our  rations 
consisted  of  fresh  beef,  corn  meal,  rice,  molasses, 
salt,  and,  at  first,  a  little  sugar.  This  was  seldom 
varied  (tho'  we  could  buy  milk,  butter,  eggs,  poul 
try  and  anything  else, — those  who  had  money). 
And  a  little  bacon  at  intervals  was  esteemed  a  great 
luxury.  Camp  life  was  still  a  picnic;  we  did  noth 
ing  but  drill  a  little,  and  laze.  How  distinctly  I 
remember  the  sensations  of  early  camp  life  just 
after  our  arrival  at  Manassas.  We  were  amongst 
the  first  to  arrive.  Our  white  tents  spread  over  a 
lovely  green  lawn,  speckled  with  white  clover-blos 
soms,  a  snow  white  village,  surrounded  by  thickets 
of  pine;  the  dark  green  contrasting  so  beautifully 
in  the  summer  sun  with  the  white  tents,  made  a 
picture  long  to  be  remembered. 

Under  the  shade  of  the  pines  and  cedars  the  boys 
15 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

picked  the  wild  strawberries  and  dewberries;  and 
the  cool,  clear  little  stream,  as  yet  undenled  by  ag 
gregations  of  men,  that  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
us  wended  its  way  to  the  sea,  was  a  source  of  keen 
enjoyment  to  the  young  fellows.  Privileges  were 
easily  obtained  from  the  officers,  then;  we  were 
all  "chums"  at  home,  and  discipline  was  as  yet 
unknown.  Such  bathing  in  the  little  stream,  and 
such  trying  to  fish, — for  there  were  no  fish  in  it 
larger  than  a  minnow. 

But,  oh,  Lordy !  That  didn't  last  long.  When 
we  started  on  the  march, — all  baggage  sent  to  the 
rear, — tents  ditto,  or  given  to  the  staff  officers, — 
cooking  utensils  followed  next,  till  later,  we  had  to 
carry  all  on  our  backs, — fry  our  meat  on  the  end 
of  a  ram-rod,  and  make  bread  in  silk  handker 
chief,  or  in  the  company's  towel. 

"Tut,  tut,  Doctor,  what  are  you  giving  us?" 
Hudson  said,  while  Bennett  grinned. 

Fact,  said  the  Old  Doctor;  you  ask  any  of  the 
bo}^s  who  were  soldiers  in  Old  Virginia,  and  they 
will  corroborate  my  statements.  Ask  Dan' els. 

On  our  first  march  I  found  my  knapsack  too 
heavy,  and  I  went  through  it  to  lighten  it.  I  took 
out  my  extra  drawers,  my  extra  undershirt,  my 
extra  socks  (we  wore  a  flannel  top-shirt  all  the 
while;  didn't  need  change),  I  couldn't  throw  any 
of  them  away;  my  towel  and  soap;  couldn't  spare 
them;  my  smoking  tobacco, — couldn't  find  a  blessed 
thing  that  I  could  throw  away,  except  two  sheets 
16 


DISINTERESTED   SOLICITUDE. 

of  letter  paper  and  two  envelopes,  on  which  I  had 
expected  to  write  to  my  sweetheart  ;  fact  ! 


AT  MANASSAS. 


DISINTERESTED  SOLICITUDE, 

"A  fellow-feeling  makes  us  wondrous  kind." 

IN  THE  company  was  a  fat  young  fellow  about 
twenty-two,  named  Bright.  He  was  real  fat; 
about  the  size  of  Governor  Hogg, — and  like  all 
fat  men,  but  me, — he  was  jolly.  He  was  the  life 
of  the  camp.  The  least  exertion  would  make  him 
blow  like  a  porpoise.  He  wasn't  fit  for  a  soldier; 
had  no  business  being  there.  He  was  a  college  boy, 
and  a  great  Shakspearian  quoter.  We  had  also  in 
the  company  an  elderly  gentleman,  about  fifty, — 
Mr.  Eussell, — and  his  two  grown  sons.  Mr.  Eussell 
was  a  quiet,  grave  gentleman,  and  the  boys  all 
looked  up  to  him  and  showed  him  respect.  He  was 
a  strong,  healthy  man,  in  the  prime  of  life, — but 
the  others,  so  much  younger  than  he,  screened  him 
whenever  they  could  from  exposure  to  night  duty 
and  labor  as  much  as  possible. 

I  was  first  sergeant,  and  the  captain  had  re 
quested  me  to  practice  the  men  in  running, — i.  e., 
in  the  double-quick  movement. 
17 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

It  was  a  lovely  June  morning, — getting  pretty 
warm.  The  band  out  in  the  edge  of  the  pine  thicket 
was  practicing  a  new  piece ;  the  air  was  odorous  of 
clover  blossoms  and  sweet  peas,,  and  young  grass 
rudely  trodden  by  the  feet  of  the  mtn,  as  they  were 
put  through  the  company  drill;  and  st  the  com 
mand  "double  quick, — march!"  away  we  went,  up 
one  slope,  down  another,  over  the  lovely  green 
sward, — practicing  how  we  could  run  (away  from 
the  yankees,  had  such  a  contingency  ever  suggested 
itself  to  any  of  us).  Oh,  it  was  a  frolic.  At  the 
command  '"halt !"  such  a  merry,  ringing  laugh  went 
up  from  the  young  scamps, — who-  really  enjoyed 
it. 

Mr.  Eussell  had  taken  a  seat  on  a  log,  and  was 
gently  fanning  himself  with  his  hat, — cool  and 
collected, — when  Bright  wobbled  up  to  me,  swab 
bing  his  face  with  a  red  handkerchief,  whose  color 
his  face  discounted  ten  per  cent., — :and  in  dis 
jointed  ejaculations  as  he  could  get  his  breath, 
said: 

"Sergeant, — I  wouldn't — make — the — men  dou 
ble-quick  up  hill ;  it  tires  Mr.  Eussell  so  bad  I" 

At  night,  while  "the  pale  inconstant  moon  rode 
majestically  thro'  the  blue  cloudless  sky"  (see  G- 
P.  K.  James'  novels),  we  boys  lying  outside  of  the 
tent  on  the  grass,  gazing  skyward,  were  thinking 
of  the  loved  ones  at  home, — of  our  sweethearts,  and 
of  course  many  of  the  chaps  were  homesick.  Billy 
Lewis,  who  was  a  nice,  clean  little  law  student, — 
18 


THE    DOCTOR   GETS   DINNER. 

as  much  fit  for  a  soldier  as  a  canary  bird  is  to  make 

a  chicken  pie, — he  had  it  bad. 

"Heigh-ho,"  he  said,  "I  wish  I  was  at  home." 
"'Heigh-ho,"  said  Bright,  just  as  solemn]}',  "I 

wish  I  had  some  butter  milk." 

And  as  the  "Liztown  Humorist"  says,  "You'd 

oughter  heard  'em  yell." 


THE  DOCTOR  GETS  DINNER. 


BEFOBE  we  struck  camp  and  went  to  march 
ing,  said  the  Old  Doctor; — before  they 
took  our  tents  away,  and  our  camp-kettles, 
we  fared  nicely.  Nearly  every  mess  in  our  com 
pany  had  a  negro  servant,  belonging  to  some  one 
of  the  boys;  and  thus  our  cooking  was  done  as  it 
should  have  been  done, — considering.  Our  cook 
belonged  to  Gwyn  Yerger,  as  fine  a  young  fellow  as 
you  ever  saw,  and  as  gallant  as  Ouster,  whom,  by- 
the-bye,  he  strikingly  resembled;  tall,  straight;  a 
blue-eyed  blonde; — of  course  he  was  very  popular 
with  the  ladies;  tell  you  a  good  one  on  him  some 
day. 

Well, — Gus, — that's  the  negro  cook, — got  sick, 
and  we  fellers  had  to  take  it  turn-about  cooking. 
I  was  a  little  pale-faced,  beardless,  dandified  med- 
19 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

ical  student,  and  knew  about  as  much  about  cook 
ing  as  a  cat ;  but  it  came  my  turn.  I  never  let  on, 
but  went  and  got  the  rations  for  the  mess  from  the 
commissary,  and  put  it  all  on  to  cook  for  one  meal. 
I  was  a  little  jubous  about  the  rice.  I  had  seen  a 
roast  on  the  table  at  home  as  large  as  our  piece 
of  beef,  and  I  thought  I  was  doing  the  right  thing 
to  cook  it  all  at  once,  so  as  to  have  it  cold  for  lunch 
eon,  as  I  had  seen  done  at  home.  But  the  rice; 
there  was  about  two  gallons  of  it,  I  suppose; — so 
I  said  to  George  Newton,  one  of  my  mess-mates : 

"George,  how  much  rice  ought  we  to  cook  for 
dinner?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know/7  said  George ;  "about  a  peck, 
I  reckon." 

Thus  assured,  I  was  confident  that  our  water 
bucket  half-full  would  be  none  too  much; — so  I 
put  her  in, — and 

"George,"  said  I;  "how  much  water  ought  I  to 
add  to  the  rice  ?"  George  was  trying  to  go  to  sleep ; 
he  had  just  come  off  of  guard. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  George,  "fill  the  kettle, 
I  reckon."  He  turned  over  to  get  a  fresh  hold  on 
his  nap. 

So,  I  filled  the  four-gallon  camp  kettle  about 
half -full  of  rice,  and  poured  in  water  up  to  the 
brim,  and  set  it  on  a  roaring  fire.  Presently  it 
began  to  boil,  and,  oh,  horrors !  to  slop  over.  That 
would  never  do ;  we  had  none  to  spare,  and  couldn't 
afford  to  waste  it. 

20 


THE  DOCTOR  GETS  DINNER. 

"George/'  I  called  out  again,  "this  dawgawnd 
rice  has  swelled;  its  boiling  over ;  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

"Oh,  don't  bother  me  so,  Dick.  Scoop  her  out 
and  put  it  into  the  vessels  we  eat  out  of,"  said 
George;  and  he  went  back  to  sleep. 

I  filled  the  coffee  pot;  I  filled  all  the  tin  cups, 
and  tin  plates  and  pans,  and  it  kept  boiling  over. 
Every  time  I  would  dish  out  about  a  gallon,  it 
would  fill  up,  and  in  a  minit  begin  to  run  over.  I 
was  in  dispair. 

"George, — do  for  the  Lord's  sake  get  up  and 
come  and  help  me.  (I'll  relieve  you  from  guard- 
duty  if  you  will)"  said  I,  in  a  low  tone,  for  I  dasn't 
let  any  one  hear  me ;  I  was  the  boss  sergeant,  dont 
forget,  and  made  the  details  for  work,  guard,  etc. 

So  George  came,  hitching  up  his  gallusses  with 
one  hand,  and  rubbing  his  eyes  with  the  other.  He 
had  a  keen  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  and  he  took  in 
the  situation  at  a  glance.  Every  tin  thing  was  full 
of  half-done,  seething  rice;  and  still  she  swelled 
and  swelled  and  slopped  over.  My  !  it  looked  like 
there  was  rice  enough  for  the  regiment. 

George  looked  around  for  something  to  help  hold 
the  surplus,  and  a  twinkle  came  in  his  eye,  as  he 
spied  Bright,  asleep  on  his  back,  and  snoring  like 
a  trooper.  His  big  horse-leather  boots  stood,  at  the 
head  of  his  cot,  and  as  quick  as  thought,  George 
got  them  and  said : 

"Here, — put  it  in  this;  it  will  get  cool  before 
21 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Bright  wakes  up,  and  it  will  be  a  good  joke  on 
him  I" 

I  was  as  full  of  fun  and  deviltry  as  George;  so, 
no  sooner  said  than  done.  We  filled  both  boots  to 
the  ankle,  and  set  them  back;  and  still  the  con 
founded  cataract  of  boiling  rice  was  roaring. 

Just  then  the  captain  called : 

"Bright !  Oh,  Bright !  come  quick,  here's  a  lady 
wants  to  see  you !" 

("The  ladies"  was  Bright's  great  weakness.  Fat 
as  he  was,  he  was  as  vain  as  Beau  Brummel,  and 
set  up  for  a  Lothario.) 

Bright  sat  up,  rubbing  his  eyes ;  and  as  quick  as 
he  could,  seized  one  boot,  and  socked  his  foot  into 
the  scalding  rice ;  when,  ge-whiz  !  what  a  howl  went 
up,  of  mingled  pain,  wrath  and  surprise !  He  made 
the  atmosphere  thick  with  a  most  florid  rhetoric; 
and  with  his  scalded  foot  still  smoking,  and  redo 
lent  of  rice,  lit  out  after  me  and  George  with  a  six- 
shooter  in  each  hand.  Fact.  He'd  have  killed  us, 
but  we  took  refuge  in  the  captain's  tent,  and  slid 
out  the  back  way,  and  each  one  sheltered  himself 
behind  a  big  oak  tree. 

Well,  Bright  sat  down  on  a  rock  near  by,  and 
with  cocked  pistol  ready,  swore  that  he'd  kill  the 
first  one  of  us  who  put  his  head  out.  He  kept  us 
there  till  roll  call,  and  would  have  had  us  there 
yet,  if  he  had  not  been  called  to  go  on  regimental 
guard. 

He  got  even  with  us  later ;  tell  you  about  it  some 

time,  maybe. 

22 


HOW   THE    BIG    DOG   WENT. 


HOW  THE  BIG  DOG  WENT. 


IN  MY  company  was  a  big,  strong  jolly  fellow 
named  Bill  Hicks.  He  was  a  great  story  teller, 
and  was  always  welcome  at  any  of  the  camp- 
fires  or  mess  tables.  I'm  speaking  still  of  the  times, 
you  remember,  at  Manassas,  before  the  tug  of  war 
came;  when  we  actually  had  candles,  as  well  as 
tents  and  cots  and  other  comforts.  It  was  a  com 
mon  thing  for  Bill  to  get  a  lot  of  the  boys  around 
him,  and  tell  them  yarns.  One  night  he  told  us 
of  a  dog  fight  he  had  witnessed,  and  he  depicted 
it  with  the  greatest  reality,  imitating  the  big  dog 
how  he  "went,"  and  the  little  dog  how  he  "went"; 
and  he  had  gotten  the  boys  very  much  interested. 

"The  big  dog  would  jump  at  the  little  dog,  and 
go  (gh-r-r-rh,'  "  Bill  said,  imitating  a  hoarse  growl. 
"And  the  little  dog,  he'd  jump  at  the  big  dog,  and 
catch  him  by  the  leg,  and  go  £br-e-w-r-r-rer,' "  said 
Bill,  imitating  a  shrill  bark  and  growl. 

He  had  gone  over  this  two  or  three  times,  illus 
trating  it  with  his  whole  body,  and  had  gotten  to 
the  point  where  the  laugh  comes  in.  The  boys  en 
joyed  it  immensely. 

Just  at  that  point,  in  stalked  Tump  Dixon,  a 
burly  bully  from  an  adjoining  camp;  a  rough,  dis 
agreeable  fellow,  drunk  or  drinking  whenever  he 
could  get  whiskey,  and  half  of  his  time  in  the  guard 
house. 

23 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"What's  that  you  are  telling,  Bill?"  said  Tump. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  said  Bill;  "nothing  worth  hear- 
ing." 

"Tell  it  over ;  I  want  to  hear  it ;  I  heard  a  part  of 
it." 

"Oh,  go  'way,  Tump  Dixon,  I  aint  agoin'  to 
make  a  fool  of  myself  just  to  please  you,"  said  Bill, 
looking  rather  sheepish. 

"You  aint?"  said  Tump. 

"No,  I  aint,"  said  Bill,  doggedly. 

Tump  poked  his  head  out  towards  Bill,  and 
looked  him  steadily  in  the  eyes;  meantime  slowly 
reaching  behind  him,  he  drew  out  and  cocked  a 
big  six-shooter,  and  pointing  it  at  Bill's  head  said : 

"How-did-that-big-dog-go  ?" 

"Gh-r-r-rr-h,"  said  Bill,  gruffly,  imitating  a 
hoarse  growl  as  before. 

"How-did-that-little-dog-go  ?"  said  Tump. 

"Bre-w-er-rrh,"  said  Bill,  imitating  a  shrill  bark. 

"How-did-that-big-dog-go?"  said  Tump. 

"He  went  fg-h-r-r-rrh,'  "  said  Bill,  the  boys  just 
yelling  with  laughter. 

"How-did-that-little-dog-go?"  said  Tump,  pistol 
still  in  Bill's  face,  dangerously  near,  in  the  hands 
of  a  half  drunk  rowdy. 

"He  went  fb-r-e-w-r-rh,' "  said  poor  Bill,  still 
feebly  imitating  the  actions  of  the  dog. 

"How-did-that-big-dog-go?"  said  Tump. 

"He  went  'g-h-rr-rh/  "  said  Bill,  bursting  into 
24 


HOW   THE    BIG   DOG   WENT. 

angry  tears,  and  saying  what  he'd  do  if  Tump 
Dixon  would  put  up  that  pistol. 

Tump  had  the  drop  on  him,  else  there  would 
have  been  a  fight,  for  Bill  was  brave,  while  Tump 
was  a  coward,  and  he  knew  it  wouldn't  be  safe. 
Tump  left  presently,  and  any  time  after  that,  if 
one  wanted  to  get  a  fight  on  his  hands  he  had  only 

to  ask  Bill  "how  the  big  dog  went  ?" 
*         *         *         * 

Bill  was  sleeping  one  day  under  a  big  tree, — he 
had  been  on  guard  all  night,  and  he  slept  the  sleep 
of  the  just.  George  Newton  and  a  lot  of  the  other 
young  scamps  tied  up  his  jaws,  crossed  his  hands 
on  his  breast, — "laid  him  out";  and  getting  the 
prayer  book,  George  was  delivering  the  burial  ser 
vice  over  him  with  variations, — when  Bill  was 
called  to  report  at  the  captain's  tent.  Whoopee ! 
If  he  didn't  larrup  me  and  George  Newton  and 
Thad  Miller,  the  smallest  of  us,  and  all  he  could 
catch ! 

Well,  that's  one  of  the  disagreeable,  unpleasant 
things  which  I  told  you  my  Eetroscope  rounded  off 
so  nicely  or  obliterated ;  but,  my  stars !  I  aint  done 
aching  yet  when  I  think  of  the  pounding  Bill  gave 
me  for  playing  he  was  dead.  Poor  fellow,  he's  dead 
to  stay,  though,  now;  long  since.  Peace  to  his 
ashes. 

25 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


BILL  AND  THE  BUMBLE  BEES'  NEST. 


ON  THE  inarch  to  Leesburg  that  lovely  early 
autumn  day, — oh.,  how  vividly  the  scenes 
at  G-oose  Creek  and  the  crossing  of  Bull 
Kun,   at   McLean's   Ford   appear   still.    There   is 
where  Stonewall  Jackson  was  dubbed  "Stonewall." 
I  witnessed  the  charge  and  the  repulse  at  McLean's 
Ford,  of  Bee  and  Bartow,  and  the  arrival  on  the 
cars  of  Johnston's  reinforcements  from  Winchester 
just  in  time  to  save  the  day.     But  I'm  not  going 
to  bore  anybody  with  that. 

We  moved  up  to  Leesburg,  our  brigade,  in 
August  or  September,  1861.  I  know  blackberries 
were  still  plentiful.  On  the  road  Bill  and  I 
straggled, — that  is,  fell  out  of  ranks,  and  followed 
along  slowly  at  our  leisure.  You  must  remember 
that  we  were  all  from  the  same  section,  all  friends 
and  acquaintances,  and  were  "hail-fellow"  with  the 
officers ;  there  was  no  such  thing  as  discipline,  then. 
Bill  and  I  picked  blackberries  leisurely  along  the 
road  side,  when,  looking  back,  we  saw  three 
mounted  field  officers  coming, — strangers  to  us; 
they  were  brigade  officers.  Two  of  them  had  Gen 
eral  B—  -  under  arrest.  Bill  and  I  thought  we 
had  better  not  let  them  see  us, — so  we  dodged  off 
the  road  into  a  deep  wood,  and  hid  behind  a  log. 
To  our  horror,  one  of  them  apparently  followed  us, 
and  the  other  two  rode  rapidly  after  him,  and  I 
26 


heard  one  of  them  say,  "General,  what  does  this 
mean?    You  are  under  arrest;  come  with  us." 

Now,  I  never  did  know  what  that  meant.  But 
Bill  and  I  thought  they  were  after  us,  so  we  ran 
again,  and  Bill  threw  himself  down  behind  a  great 
big  old  sycamore  log,  and,  by  Jo,  right  plump  into 
a  bumble  bee's  nest !  He  ran  again, — you  bet  he 
did !  and  such  a  sight  I  never  saw.  Bill  running 
like  a  scared  deer,  and  fighting  those  bumble-bees 
off  with  both  hands, — and  every  now  and  then,  as 
one  would  get  in  his  work,  to  hear  Bill  yell  was 
just  too  funny  for  anything  in  this  world,  unless 
it  be  for  a  Wild- west  show. 

Bye-and-bye  when  the  excitement  was  over,  we 
resumed  our  march,  leisurely.  Our  regiment  had 
halted  in  an  old  field  about  a  mile  from  Leesburg, 
stacked  arms,  and«  the  men  were  unloading  the 
wagons,  throwing  out  the  tents  and  things.  Every 
wagon  we  would  pass  the  men  stopped  work,  and 
straightening  up,  would  gaze  at  us  like  we  were 
strangers. 

I  said:  "Bill"  (I  noticed  that  he  kept  a  little 
behind  me),  "what  does  this  mean?" 

"Dont  know,"  said  Bill. 

But  it  got  worse  and  worse.  A  crowd  began  to 
gather  towards  us,  gazing  at  me,  like  I  was  a  yan- 
kee.  I  looked  around  at  Bill  for  an  explanation, — 
and  I  found  it.  Bill  was  marching  me  into  camp 
at  the  point  of  a  bayonet,  confound  him ! 
27 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


THE  DOCTOR  TAKES  SUPPER  WITH 
ONE  OF  THE  F.  F,  VS. 


THEEE  was  but  one  good  coat  in  our  com 
pany,  said  the  Old  Doctor  on  this  occasion, 
and  that  belonged  to  Dick  Ledbetter.  Poor 
fellow, — he's  dead,  too;  the  bravest  boy  and  the 
luckiest.  He  participated  actively  as  a  private, 
Avith  a  gun,  in  seventeen  of  the  big  pitched  battles 
in  which  Longstreet's  famous  division  was  engaged 
in  Virginia  and  elsewhere,  and  in  hundreds  of  skir 
mishes,  and  never  received  a  scratch,  nor  lost  a 
day  from  duty.  He  survived  the  war,  and  return 
ing  to  Jackson,  our  old  home,  his  and  mine,  mar 
ried,  and  prospered  in  business.  He  died  there  in 
the  spring  of  1897. 

Speaking  of  Dick,  reminds  me  to  tell  you  of  the 
time  when  our  regiment  was  making  a  charge  on 
the  yankees  during  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  (July 
18,  1861),  Dick  and  I  were  side  by  side.  We  had  n 
big  ditch  or  gully  to  cross,  and  in  doing  so,  Dick 
exclaimed : 

"Gee !  Dick !  look  at  the  dewberries !"  and 
throwing  down  our  guns  we  went  to  picking  and 
eating  the  delicious  berries,  and — got  left. 

But  about  Dick's  coat,  and  the  tea-party.  The 
coat  was  a  pretty,  bluish-gray  frock  coat,  with 
pretty  brass  buttons  on  it.  It  was  the  most  accom- 
28 


SUPPER   WITH    ONE   OF   THE    F.    F.    VS. 

modating  garment  that  ever  was  made,  I  do  reckon. 
It  would  fit  all  of  us,  every  man  in  the  company. 

One  night  our  captain  was  invited  to  take  supper 
at  the  residence  of  one  of  Leesburg's  foremost 
citizens,  a  Mr.  Hempstead.  He  was  requested  to 
bring  with  him  two  of  his  young  friends,  and  he 
invited  Gwyn  Yerger  and  me.  Yerger  was  the 
handsomest  young  fellow  in  the  company.  I  shan't 
say  anything  about  myself,  on  that  score,  but  as 
Mr.  H.  had  three  pretty  daughters,  it  is  reasonable 
to  suppose  the  captain,  who  was  very  vain,  thought 
to  please  the  girls  in  the  selection;  hence  (ahem!) 
Yerger  was  a  blonde,  and  a  great  lady's  man.  He 
had  borrowed  Ledbetter's  pretty  coat,  and  Lieu 
tenant  Session's  shoulder  straps, — the  bars  that  a 
lieutenant  wears  on  his  collar,  rather,  and  rigged 
himself  out  for  conquest,  as  "Lieutenant"  Yerger. 
That  evening  it  was  "Lieutenant"  this,  and  "Lieu 
tenant"  that.  Already  so  early  in  the  war  a  prefer 
ence  was  shown  by  the  fair  sex  for  officers. 

With  the  three  handsome  daughters  we  were 
lions.  It  was  a  picnic.  They  had  an  elegant  sup 
per,  such  as  peace  times  knew;  something  we  had 
not  seen  nor  tasted  for  many  weary  months ;  straw 
berries,  broiled  chickens,  hot  rolls,  cream,  coffee, 
butter,  preserves,  cakes,  umph !  but  it  was  a  feast. 
The  girls  were  charming.  Old  Bontaine,  the  cap 
tain,  tried  to  monopolize  the  conversation  with  the 
girls,  all  three  of  them.  But  Yerger  and  I  were 
something  of  drawing  room  adepts,  ourselves.  We 
29 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

used  at  home  to  "court  the  amorous  looking  glass/'' 
and  were  not  inproficient  at  "capering  nimbly  in 
my  lady's  chamber/'  See  Eichard  III. 

The  conversation  was  general,  at  first,  and 
amongst  other  things  it  turned  naturally  on  hospi 
tality,  and  Virginia's  fame  for  hospitality;  the 
symbols  of  hospitality  with  different  peoples  and 
nations,  etc.  You  bet  I  lost  no  time  in  letting  them 
know  that  I  was  one  of  the  F.  F.  V's  myself.  But 
poor  Yerger  put  his  foot  into  it,  if  he  did  have  on 
the  best  coat,  and  was  playing  he  was  an  officer. 
He  spoke  of  his  State,  Mississippi,  and  the  hospi 
tality  of  her  people,  when  presently  one  of  the 
young  ladies  said : 

"Lieutenant  Yerger,  what  is  regarded  as  the 
symbol  of  hospitality  in  your  old  home, — Missis 
sippi?" 

"Well,"  said  Yerger,  '"I  hardly  know;  but 
amongst  men,  usually  about  the  first  thing  set  out 
when  a  neighbor  calls,  is  whiskey,  I  believe;  eh, 
Captain?" 

Before  the  captain  could  reply,  as  quick  as  a 
wink  (the  lady  of  the  house,  the  mother,  had  just 
glanced  at  the  pretty  yellow  maid  who  was  waiting 
on  the  table),  there  was  a  decanter  of  whiskey  sit 
ting  by  Yerger's  plate. 

Poor  Yerger !  he  looked  as  if  he  wished  the  earth 
would  open  and  swallow  him  up,  Ledbetter's  coat 
and  all.  He  never  used  liquor  in  any  way  in  his 
life,  that  I  know  of. 

30 


Of  course  the  ladies  were  invited  to  visit  our 
camp,, — papa,  too,  especially,  to  witness  dress  pa 
rade.  They  came  sooner  than  we  expected. 

Next  evening,  just  as  luck  would  have  it,  Gus 
was  sick  again, — that's  the  cook, — and  it  was  Yer- 
ger's  time  to  get  supper.  He  had  built  the  fire,  and 
made  every  preparation  to  get  supper,  and  was 
sweating  and  fussing  over  the  fire, — face  begrimed 
with  smoke, — he  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and  hair  all 
towseled.  The  regiment  was  on  dress  parade  at 
that  moment,  and  Yerger  was  mad,  anyhow.  Just 
at  that  juncture,  up  came  a  cavalcade  of  ladies  on 
horseback,  foremost  amongst  whom  were  the  Misses 
Hempstead.  They  rode  up  to  the  fire  where  Yer 
ger  was,  and  asked  for  "Lieutenant"  Yerger.  Well, 
he  was  covered  with  confusion,  as  well  as  with 
sweat  and  soot ;  but  being  ready-witted,  everything 
passed  of?  nicely ;  but  you  bet  Yerger  didn't  invite 

them  to  stay  to  supper. 

*         *         #         # 

While  telling  my  recollections  of  my  short  ser 
vice  in  the  ranks  in  Virginia,  and  of  the  boys'  first 
lessons  in  cooking, — for  you  must  know  that  by- 
and-bye  they  had  to  cook  or  go  hungry;  the  negro 
cook  business  soon  played  out,  I'll  tell  you  another 
one  on  Bill ;  that  same  Bill  Hicks  I  was  telling  you 
about. 

One  day,  or  one  night,  rather,  we  had  gone  into 
camp  for  the  night  (I  mean  our  regiment),  and 
Bill  was  trying  to  cook  some  rations  for  next  day's 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

march.  He  mixed  his  corn  meal  and  water  all 
right  nicely  in  the  company  towel,  and  put  in  a 
little  grease  and  salt,  and  turned  out  a  real  nice 
"pone,"  ready  to  cook.  He  first  thought  he'd  make 
an  ash  cake  of  it, — roast  it  in  the  ashes,  you  know ; 
but  luckily,  finding  a  clean  flat  rock  near  by,  he 
put  that  on  the  embers,  and  when  it  got  hot  he 
spread  out  his  pone  on  it,  and  sat  down  to  watch 
it.  By-and-bye  Bill  thought  it  wasn't  browning 
fast  enough,  so  he  thought  to  accelerate  it  by  turn 
ing  it  over  and  giving  the  other  side  a  chance.  In 
attempting  to  do  so,  the  plagued  thing  crumbled 
and  fell  to  pieces. 

Bill  just  made  the  woods  ring  with  remarks 
much  louder  and  more  emphatic  than  elegant,  or 
than  the  occasion  called  for;  so  George  Newton 
thought ;  George  was  a  terrible  wag.  He  said : 

"Oh,  Bill,  dont  take  it  so  hard.  The  Savior  once 
broke  bread,  you  remember!" 

Bill  looked  at  him  for  about  a  minit,  a  dark  look, 
and  then  in  a  tone  of  contempt,  said : 

"The  hell  he  did!     He  didn't  drop  it  in  the 

ashes,  did  he?" 

*         *         *         * 

Alas,  poor  Bill !  He  was  a  fine  young  man,  an 
Apollo  in  form,  and  a  model  of  strong  physical 
manhood.  Had  he  lived  he  would  surely  have  had 
a  career  of  usefulness.  But  like  thousands  of  others 
of  the  flower  of  the  youth  of  the  South,  he  was 
needlessly  sacrificed  to  what  the  South  believed  to 
32 


THE  DOCTOR  ROUTES  THE  FEDERAL  ARMY. 

be  a  principle;  rights  guaranteed  the  South  under 
the  Constitution.,  violated,  and  no  other  recourse 
for  redress,  they  thought.  Bill  lost  a  leg  in  battle, 
and  after  the  war,  although  he  began  the  practice 
of  law  with  flattering  prospects,  the  loss  of  his  leg 
so  preyed  on  his  mind,  the  thought  of  going 
through  life  such  a  cripple,  in  a  fit  of  despondency 
he  blew  out  his  brains. 


THE  DOCTOR  ROUTES  THE  FEDERAL 
ARMY. 


SITTING  by  the  fire  at  home  one  day  lately, 
said  the  Old  Doctor,  our  Fat  Philosopher 
(by  which  cognomen  we  had  just  saluted 
him    on    his    entering    our    sanctum),  mentally 
figuring  to   see  how  I   was  going  to  make  that 
$5,  which  Bill  Jeffries  promised  to  pay  me  next 
Saturday  week,  pay  my  subscription  to  the  Texas 
Medical  Journal,  buy  a  pair  of  red-top  boots  for 
Johnny,  and  get  my  wife  that  pattern  of  calico  she 
saw  in  Simon's  window  for  Christmas,  and  still 
have  some  left  for  tobacco,  when  my  wife, — who 
was  mending  my  other  shirt, — looked  up  and  said : 
"Doctor,  do  you  reckon  Dr.  Daniel  ever  heard  of 
33 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

that  ten  dollar  fee  you  got  last  year  for  a  surgical 
operation  ?" 

"Why,  no,"  said  I.  "What  put  that  in  your 
head?" 

"Why,  I  dont  know  why  else  he  would  call  you 
the  ffat-fee-losopher,'  "  she  said.  "That's  the  only 
fat  fee  you  ever  made,  aint  it,  honey?"  And  the 
old  fellow  just  shook  with  suppressed  merriment 

at  the  recollection. 

*         *         *         * 

Promised  to  tell  you  about  our  captain,  did  I? 
Oh,  yes ;  so  I  did. 

The  old  man  was  a  scholar.  Many  people  here 
in  Texas  remember  him  well.  He  was  a  naturalist. 
He  was  also  an  Episcopal  minister.  But  I  must 
say,  he  had  less  common  sense  than  any  man  I  ever 
saw,  and  was  as  ugly  as  the  devil !  He  was  a  man 
of  the  most  inordinate  vanity,  moreover; — vain  of 
his  personal  appearance!  His  face  looked  like  a 
gorilla's;  high  retreating  forehead, — narrow,  but 
high ;  large  superciliary  ridges,  high  cheek  bones, — 
a  real  prognathous  skull;  eyes  deep-set  and  cav 
ernous  ;  little  twinkling,  restless  eyes,  and  a  mouth 
like  a  cat  fish.  He  wore  his  hair  in  little  tight 
corkscrew  curls,  and  when  he  spoke  there  was  a 
kind  of  whistling  sound  followed.  To  see  him 
rigged  out  in  his  full  fighting  paraphernalia  was  a 
sight  to  make  Ajax  green  with  envy,  and  Achilles 
and  Hector  go  off  and  grieve.  But, — well,  he  got 
to  be  the  captain  of  our  company  in  some  way, — 
34 


THE  DOCTOR  ROUTES  THE  FEDERAL  ARMY. 

after  Captain  Burt,  for  whom  the  company  was 
named,  was  made  colonel  of  the  regiment. 

At  Manassas, — up  to  the  time  when  our  tents 
were  taken  from  us,  he  used  to  have  prayer  meeting 
at  his  tent  every  night,  and  the  spoony  and  home 
sick  boys  all  attended  with  a  religious  regularity 
that  was  most  commendable.  He  suddenly  discon 
tinued  it ;  and  when  asked  why,  he  said  that  he  had 
been  fighting  the  devil  all  his  life,  and  now  that  he 
had  the  yankees  to  fight  in  addition, — doubling 
teams  on  him  as  it  were,  he  couldn't  do  justice  to 
both.  He  was  brave.  I  dont  think  he  knew  what 
personal  fear  was. 

The  battle  of  Manassas  was  fought  on  a  lovely 
summer  day  (July  21,  ?61)7  beginning  about  sun 
rise.  Our  regiment  was  not  engaged  until  late  in 
the  afternoon.  Somebody  blundered.  I'm  glad  of 
it;  I  might  have  been  killed,  and,  see  what  the 
world  would  have  lost  if  I  had!  As  it  was,  I  got 
to  see  it  all,  from  a  safe  distance;  an  experience 
that  few  can  boast  of. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  were  marched  ahead  of, 
and  at  right  angles  with  the  line  of  battle,  for  about 
a  mile ;  and  there  on  top  of  a  high  hill,  overlooking 
the  entire  battlefield,  we  were  halted,  and  there 
remained  inactive  'till  about  five  o'clock.  It  was 
the  intention,  we  learned  afterwards,  that  we 
should  charge  by  the  flank, — swing  around,  you 
know,  and  shut  in,  like  a  knife  blade.  The  idea 
was  to  get  in  behind  the  enemy,  and  some  think 
35 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

that  had  this  been  done  late  in  the  afternoon,  as 
was  intended,  when  the  rout  came,  we  would  have 
bagged  the  whole  shooting  match.  It  seems  that 
the  courier  carrying  the  order  was  killed,  and  the 
other  regiments  which,  with  ours,  were  to  do  this 
swinging-around-act,  didn't  come  up ;  so  we  waited 
in  vain  nearly  all  day  for  them,  as  stated.  In  the 
meantime,  resting  here  on  that  hill,  we  had  a  most 
excellent  view  of  the  battle,  almost  from  beginning 
to  end,  participating  only  slightly,  as  I  will  tell 
you,  in  the  final  charge,  about  sundown. 

I  wish  I  could  describe  the  scene  to  you.  We 
looked  west  from  where  we  were;  that  is,  up  the 
run  or  creek ;  Bull  Run.  We  could  see  almost  every 
movement ;  see  the  charges  which  have  become  his 
torical,  as  I  told  you  on  a  former  visit,  I  believe. 
We  saw  every  cannon  discharge;  saw  the  curl  of 
smoke  before  we  heard  the  report ;  we  saw  the  train 
arrive  from  Winchester  bringing  Generals  Joseph 
B.  Johnston  and  Kirby  Smith  with  reinforce 
ments;  saw  them  disembark, — form  column  and 
forward  on  the  run;  saw  them  halted  and  thrown 
into  line;  saw  them  charge,  and  turn  the  tide  of 
battle.  Oh,  it  was  a  most  glorious  sight, — from  a 
distance.  The  battle  raged  nearly  all  day. 

Byme-by  the  order  came  to  forward, — our  regi 
ment  that  had  been  lying  there  all  day  just  looking 
on,  and  skinnin7  slippery  elm  trees  of  the  bark  and 
chewing  it, — the  boys  were  very  fond  of  slippery 
elm  bark, — and  they  skinned  every  tree  on  that  hill. 
36 


THE    DOCTOE    ROUTES    THE    FEDERAL    ARMY. 

We  were  told  to  throw  away  our  blankets,  or, 
rather,,  to  leave  them  there,  and  we  could  get  them 
after  we  had  run  the  yankees  off. 

So,  late  in  the  afternoon.,  the  sun  was  setting, 
and  shone  in  our  faces  by  that  time,  we  went  for 
ward  on  a  brisk  trot  till,  all  of  a  sudden,  we  were 
on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  steep,  deep,  rocky  and 
with  almost  perpendicular  sides.  And,  there  we 
were;  could  get  no  further.  The  ravine  (it  was 
the  bed  of  Cub  Bun,  a  tributary  to  Bull  Eun, — 
when  it  rained;  it  was  dry  now),  was  fifty  yards  or 
more  wide,  and  on  the  opposite  bank  stood  the 
yankees,  infantry,  regulars,  concealing  a  terrible 
battery.  It  looked  like  there  were  a  thousand  of 
them  in  line.  It  seemed  to  me  that  their  coat  tails 
were  all  of  exactly  the  same  length,  from  the 
glimpse  I  had  of  them ;  for  we  stood  not  there  long 
idle.  They  saw  us,  and  just  poured  grape  and  can 
ister  into  us  from  that  battery,  while  this  lino  of 
infantry  just  mowed  us  down  like  grass.  There 
was  but  one  thing  to  do ;  that  was  to  run.  You  bet 
we  ran.  And  as  we  scattered,  the  shots  just 
whistled  after  us  "through  the  emerald  woods 
where  the  breezes  were  sighing." 

About  that  time, — panic  having  seized  the  enemy 
at  the  other  end,  where,  it  seems,  our  men  had 
charged  them  with  the  bayonet,  and  spread  to  the 
line  in  front  of  us,  bless  your  soul,  unexpectedly  to 
us,  and  without  the  least  cause  that  we  knew,  they 
just  limbered  up  their  cannon,  about-faced,  and 
37 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

got.  That  is  a  fact.  They  had  nothing  to  fear 
from  us,  our  regiment,  for,  as  stated,  we  couldn't 
get  near  them. 

But  do  you  know,  or  rather,  would  you  believe 
it, — when  I  was  discharged  later,  of  which  I  have 
told  you,  haven't  I  ?  and  went  home,  the  old  cap 
tain  gave  me  a  letter, — I  have  it  yet;  I  prize  it  as 
a  curiosity,  and  am  keeping  it  as  an  heirloom, — 
in  which  he  testified  that  I  "had  always  been  a  good 
soldier;  had  always  done  my  full  duty/7  and  that 
he  would  "never  forget  the  day,  nor  my  gallantry, 
when  I  helped  him  strike  the  last  blow  to  the 
enemy's  reserves,  when  they  fled, — panic-stricken 
from  the  field" ;  thus  "helping  him  save  the  honor 
of  the  Confederacy/'  Fact, — a  positive  fact, — 
verbatim.  I  have  that  letter  yet. 

When  I  got  home  I  showed  it  to  my  mother.  I 
asked  her  to  feel  of  me.  I  asked  her  if  there  were 
any  birthmarks  on  me  by  which  my  identity  could 
be  positively  established  ?  I  said  that  it  was  not  I ; 
impossible.  It  must  surely  be  the  spirit  of  Xapo- 
leon  Bonaparte,  Julius  Cassar  and  Wellington  all 
rolled  into  one  and  personated  by  me  on  the  occa 
sion  referred  to;  I  didn't  know  I  was  such  a  war 
rior. 

Xow,  the  fact  is, — I  ran.  But  he  didn't.  He 
just  stood  there  like  a  fool,  popping  away  at  those 
IT.  S.  regulars,  fifty  yards  off  or  more,  with  a  little 
22-calibre  Smith  &  Wesson  pistol,  and  they  just 
pouring  grape  and  canister  shot  at  him  and  at  us 
38 


THE    DOCTOR   ROUTES   THE    FEDERAL   ARMY. 

at  random., — till  the  big  scare  struck  them.  It's 
a  fact;  the  enemy  fled.,  when  no  one,  from  our 
crowd,  at  least,  pursued  them. 

The  old  captain  did  then  rally  a  few  of  our  scat 
tered  company,  and  attaching  them  to  the  tail  end 
of  another  command,  marched  us  off  the  field  to 
where  we  had  left  our  blankets,  fortunately.  A 

great  many  of  our  company  were  killed. 
*         *         *         * 

After  the  regiment  moved  up  to  Leesburg  after 
the  battle  of  Manassas  (first  Manassas),  I  pro 
cured  a  discharge.  I  had  ascertained  that  fighting 
as  a  private  was  not  my  specialty,  and  didn't  fit  in 
at  all  with  either  my  talent  or  my  taste.  Mr.  Davis 
had  issued  a  proclamation  stating  that  the  war 
would  last  some  years,  and  officers  would  be  needed ; 
that  it  was  like  "grinding  seed  corn"  to  kill  up  the 
students  (in  which  sentiment  I  fully  concurred), 
and  offered  to  release  from  the  ranks  all  who  were 
studying  medicine.  I  returned  home  and  immedi 
ately  went  to  Xew  Orleans  and  took  another  course 
of  lectures,  and  got  my  diploma  and  got  out,  just 
before  Ben  Butler  captured  the  city.  In  less  than  six 
months  more,  towit :  July  8th,  1862,  I  was  exam 
ined  by  the  Army  Board  of  Medical  Examiners 
for  Bragg's  army  at  Tupelo,  Miss.,  and  greatly 
to  my  surprise,  I  was  given  a  commission  by  the 
Secretary  of  War  as  surgeon,  upon  the  report  and 
request  of  this  board.  I  was  just  ten  days  less  than 
twenty-three  years  of  age.  I  was  at  once  assigned 
39 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

to  duty  with  the  examining  board  as  secretary,  at 
the  request  of  the  president  of  the  board,  the  late 
Dr.  David  W.  Yandell. 


M     * 


INVADING  KENTUCKY. 


A  VIOLENT  ERUPTION  OF  "LORENA." 

THE   DOCTOE   walked  into  the   office   one 
morning,  looking  very  sober,  and  gently 
whistling    "Lorena."     Taking   his    accus 
tomed  seat,  my  easy  chair,  he  said : 

Dan'els,  did  you  ever  notice  how  any  tune,  once 
familiar,  will  bring  back  recollections  of  the  time 
you  heard  it  ?  Memories  long  dormant  ?    How  cer 
tain  thoughts  and  recollections  are  associated  in 
some  way  with  certain  airs?    Yes,  and  even  with 
the  odor  of  certain  flowers. 
"Oh,  yes,"  said  I,  "often." 
Well,  "Lorena"  is  associated  in  my  mind  with 
more  pleasant  memories  of  war  times  than  any 
other  song ;  for  it  had  its  birth, — lived  its  little  life, 
and  perished, — was  sung  to  death  during  those  stir 
ring  times.     It  is  essentially  a  war  song;  and  in 
my   mind   is   associated,  peculiarly,  with   Bragg's 
celebrated  Kentucky  campaign : 
40 


A   VIOLENT    ERUPTION    OF  ULOKENA." 


"The  sun's  low  down  the  sky,  Lorena, — 
The  snow  is  on  the  grass  again; 
Er-rer-something-or-other-Lorena, 
The  frost  gleams  where  the  flowers  have  been/' 

sang  the  Old  Doctor;  low  to  himself,  with  an  ex 
pression  on  his  face  of  mingled  gravity  and  humor. 

I  was  thinking  of  the  time,  said  he,  speaking  of 
Lorena, — when  the  snow  was  on  me  about  a  foot 
deep,  before  we  got  out  of  Kentucky, — those  of  us 
who  did  get  back ;  for  there  was  many  a  poor  fellow 
who  went  with  us,  gaily  singing  "Lorena"  all  along 
the  road  who — staid  there, — alas;  most  of  them  at 
Perryville  and  Munfordsville. 

On  the  march  going  in, — it  was  glorious  weather 
in  the  early  fall,  when  the  leaves  in  the  forest  were 
putting  on  their  earliest  fall  tints ;  when  the  grapes 
with  their  purple  lusciousness  hung  temptingly 
near  the  roadside;  when  the  apples,  red-ripe,  were 
dropping  of  their  own  plethora  of  sweetness ;  on  the 
march  "Lorena"  was  sung  morning,  noon  and 
night.  The  forests  rang  with  it.  "Every  lily  in 
the  dell  knows  the  story, — knows  it  well"; — ought 
to,  at  least ;  lily,  leaf  and  bird, — forest,  stream  and 
valley,  heard  it  often  enough,  the  Lord  knows,  and 
loud  enough,  to  remember  it  forever. 
41 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


CROSSING  THE  CUMBERLAND. 


IT  BEINGS  to  my  mind  especial!}7,  and  in  vivid 
pictures,    continued    the    Old    Doctor,    after 
refreshing  himself  with  a  cigarette,  the  scene 
at  Mussel  Shoals  where  the  army  crossed  the  Cum 
berland  one  lovely  October  morning  at  sunrise.     I 
shall  never  forget  it.     The  soldiers  were  in  fine 
spirits ;  it  was  a  frolic  for  the  youngsters. 

I  can  see,  now,  gathered  on  the  near  bank,  gen 
erals  and  staff  officers  in  brilliant  uniforms,  direct 
ing  the  work  of  putting  over  the  wagons  and  the 
artillery ;  wagons  'with  snow  white  covers  gleaming 
in  the  clear  morning  light,  each  wagon  drawn  by 
six  stout  mules;  see  the  ambulances, — now  the  ar 
tillery,  with  mounted  drivers  in  gay  colors, — the 
guns  and  caissons,  descending  cautiously  the  grade 
to  the  water;  see  those  already  over,  slowly  pulling 
up  the  opposite  bank, — the  forest-covered  hills  not 
yet  lighted  up  for  the  day,  giving  a  glorious  dark 
background  to  the  brilliant  picture;  see  the  horse 
men,  interspersed  here  and  there  amongst  the 
wagons  and  the  caissons  and  the  cannons,  their 
riders  rattling  'with  carbine  and  spur;  see  those 
amid-stream,  wagons,  horses,  guns.  I  hear  the 
striking  of  the  hoof  against  the  boulders  as  a  horse 
impatiently  paws  the  water,  drinking  leisurely  and 
little  at  a  time,  or  as  I  suspect,  making  believe  he 
was  drinking,  by  burying  his  nose  in  the  water  as 


CROSSING   THE    CUMBERLAND. 


a  pretext  to  lave  his  tired  legs  in  the  delicious 
limpid  coolness  of  the  water.  I  see  again  the  shal 
low  but  broad  stream,  clear  as  ice,  slowly  crawling 
along,  fretted  here  by  a  rock,  checked  and  diverted 
there  by  the  bank,  but  still  on,  on,  as  in  ages  past 
it  has  been  going,  as  it  is  now;  ever  changing  its 
particles,  yet  ever  the  same  river;  on,  on,  to  finally 
mingle  with  the  great  gulf.  The  birds  in  the  for 
est,  "winged  songsters,"  chirping  their  early 
matins,  looking  on  with  curious  eye  at  the  unac 
customed  scene,  all  unconscious  of  the  deadly  na 
ture  of  our  mission.  As  an  accompaniment  to  the 
drama, — a  lovely  scene  of  action  set  to  music, — 
rang  out,  clear  and  strong  on  the  morning  air : 

"A  hundred  months  have  passed,  Lorena, 
Since  last  I  held  thy  hand  in  mine." 

Lorena  palled  after  awhile,  and  I  felt  somewhat 
by  "Lorena"  as  I  suppose  Xanki  Poo  in  Mikado 
did  about  Yum  Yum :  "Well,  take  Yum  Yum,  and 
go  to  the  devil  with  Yum  Yum,"  said  he.  And  so 
I  said  about  "Lorena." 

How  like  life  was  that  stream.  Every  particle 
of  the  water  changing  every  minute  at  a  given 
point,  passing  on,  its  place  taken  by  new  ones, — 
and,  yet, — it  is  the  same  river. 

Xow,  here  am  I, — old,  gray  and  grizzled.   There 

is  not  a  particle  of  bone,  blood,  muscle  nor  sinew; 

not  a  cell  in  my  body  that  was  there  that  bright 

morning  thirty-five  years  ago,  'when  throbbing  with 

43 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

the  pulse  of  youth,  fired  by  hope  and  ambition 
probably,  I  gazed  upon  that  scene  of  life,,  pulsing 
like  a  locomotive  impatient  to  be  going.  And  yet, 
it  is  the  same,  —  the  identical  ego;  and  like  that 
stream,  I  am  still  going  on,  on,  checked  here, 
fretted  there;  turned  out  of  my  course  yonder; 
buffeted  about  by  "circumstances  over  which  I  have 
no  control,"  here,  there,  anywhere  ;  but  still,  on,  on, 
I  go,  with  the  years,  to  mingle  finally  with  the  great 
gulf,  —  eternity.  And  then? 


AN  EXTENSIVE  ACQUAINTANCE. 


THE  ABMY  had  halted  after  all  had  gotten 
safely  over;  the  infantry,  cavalry,  artillery, 
the  wagon  train  bringing  up  the  rear.     It 
was  stretched  out  along  the  road  about  six  miles. 
Here  and  there  dashed  a  staff  officer  carrying  a 
message ;  some  were  eating,  some  lying  down  on  the 
side  of  the  road,  some  doing  one  thing,  some  an 
other;  the  army  had  halted.     The  men  were  rest 
ing,  "resting  at  ease,"  but  ready  to  resume  the 
march  at  a  word.     Everywhere  was  heard  "Lor- 
ena."    She  was  epidemic.    You  could  hear  her  far 
off ;  you  could  hear  her  near  by,  played  by  the  band, 
44 


AN    EXTENSIVE    ACQUAINTANCE. 

whistled,  hummed  and  sung,  always  the  same,  until 
I  begun  to  think  that  "a  hundred  months"  was 
about  all  there  was  of  her,  till  I  learned  the  bal 
ance,  later,  about  the  snow  and  the  flowers  and  the 
grass. 

The  medical  director  had  told  me  to  ride  ahead 
up  the  road  'till  I  had  found  the  —  —  regi 

ment,  and  to  tell  the  surgeon  of  that  regiment, 
Doctor — somebody,  something.  (He  might  have 
sent  a  courier,  but  he  didn't.) 

Now,  there  I  was,  a  stripling  of  a  young  fellow, 
just  past  23,  a  full  surgeon,  with  the  rank  and 
pay  of  major,  and  with  a  high  staff  position.  That 
is  to  say, — and  here  you  will  have  to  pardon  a  slight, 
digression,  for  these  recollections  are  nothing  if  not 
veracious,  Dr.  Yandell  of  Louisville,  was  Medical 
Director  of  Hardee's  corps.  He  was  President  of 
the  Army  Board  of  Medical  Examiners,  and  when 
I  passed  my  examination  at  Tupelo,  Miss.,  in  July, 
1862,  before  we  started  on  this  Kentucky  march; — 
you  remember  my  telling  you? — my  first  assign 
ment  to  duty  was  at  his  request,  as  secretary  of  the 
board.  The  board  was,  therefore,  attached  to  Gen 
eral  Hardee's  headquarters,  and  was  a  part  of  his 
military  family ;  and  when  in  camp  my  duties  were, 
as  secretary  of  the  board,  clerical.  On  the  march 
and  in  battle  they  were  various.  I  was  surgeon  to 
the  cavalry  escort,  one  thing;  I  had  to  pull  the 
men's  teeth, — dress  any  little  (or  big)  wound,  pre 
scribe  for  their  numerous  ailments,  diarrhoea  prin- 
45 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

cipally;  on  the  march  assist  the  medical  director 
and  medical  inspector,  and  during  and  after  a  fight 
I  had  charge  of  the  ambulance  corps  and  the  litter- 
bearers.  I'll  tell  you  about  Perryville  some  day,  if 
I  dont  forget  it. 

Well,  as  I  said,  there  I  was,  a  young  fellow  about 
as  fat  as  a  match,  delicate  physically,  holding  a 
surgeon's  commission,  and  away  up;  wearing  on 
my  collar  a  gold  star  on  each  side,  and  trimmin's 
to  match, — gold  lace  galore.  That  is :  I  was  en 
titled  to  do  so,  if  I  had  had  a  uniform;  but  the  fact 
is,  I  didn't;  I  had  on  a  little  threadbare  citizen's 
frock  coat  which  had  been  a  "Prince  Albert,"  once, 
— and  on  the  lapels  of  it,  you  bet,  I  had  the 
gold  stars  at  least,  as  big  as  a  silver  quarter.  My 
cap  was  a  dilapidated  affair,  brim  torn  half  off,  and 
it  flopped  up  and  down  as  I  paced  along,  jiggity- 
jig  on  my  little  mustang  mare.  I  must  have  cut  a 
comical  figure,  I  reckon;  but  I  had  the  rank, — had 
the  position  of  dignity,  and  wore  conspicuously  on 
my  lapels  the  insignia  of  it;  besides, — I  had  on 
military  gloves;  true,  they  were  a  great  deal  too 
big  for  me, — but  what  matter?  I  tried  to  look  the 
soldier,  at  least. 

Now,  Dan'els,  lookin'  back  at  that  time,  and  the 
occurrences  as  memory  recalls  them,  either  through 
my  Retroscope,  or  as  they  are  conjured  up  by  the 
magic  of  "Lorena," — through  the  long  vista  of 
years  that  has  intervened;  years  bringing  experi 
ence,  poverty  and  gray  hairs,  but  alas,  not  wisdom, 
46 


are  you,  DicheyT'—Pd-ge 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

I  fear,  I  am  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  at 
that  time  I  thought  I  was  some  pun'kins.  I'm 
sure  of  it.  The  panorama  of  life  opened  up  before 
my  vision,  painted  in  glowing  colors.  I  was  going 
to  do  great  things, — I  didn't  exactly  know  how  or 
what;  I  was  going  to  distinguish  myself  in  some 
way, — probably  get  to  be  a  great  surgeon,  com 
pared  to  whom  Velpeau,  Gross,  Erichsen,  wouldn't 
be  in  it  at  all.  As  I  rode  along  on  that  errand  what 
thoughts  of  glory  and  of  future  greatness  did  not 
come  to  my  mind !  Did  you  fellers  ever  read  "Bud 
Zuntz's  Mail"  (by  Euth  McEnery  Stewart)  ?  Bud, 
thought  he  would  return  from  the  war  at  least  a 
colonel.  He  would  ride  up  to  his  sweetheart's 
father's  front  gate  on  a  fine  white  charger,  carrying 
a  Confederate  flag  in  one  hand  and  a  brevet-gen 
eral's  commission  in  the  other,  and  demand  the 
fair  one's  hand  as  a  reward  for  his  valor.  "Stid  of 
that,"  he  says,  "they  fetched  me  home  in  an 
amb'lance,  with  a  sore  laig,  and  I've  been  a  drivin' 
that  team  of  oxen  for  a  livin'  ever  since;  'Bud 
Zuntz's  fiery  untamed  chargers,'  as  old  Mrs.  Pilkins 
calls  them."  Now,  I  didn't  fare  quite  as  badly  as 
Bud;  I  came  out  without  the  "sore  laig,"  at  least. 
I  rode  along  gaily  that  bright  October  morning, 
wrapped  in  delicious  visions  of  future  greatness, 
and,  as  said,  evidently  thinking  I  was  some 
pun'kins.  In  the  infantry  line,  which  was  stretched 
out  along  the  roadside  for  miles  and  miles,  was  my 
old  regiment,  and  my  old  company  with  which  I 
48 


AN    EXTENSIVE    ACQUAINTANCE. 

had  served  as  a  private  soldier  in  Virginia  the  year 
before.  There  was  George  Newton,  Dick  Ledbetter, 
Gwyn  Yerger,  Bill  Hicks,  Bright,  and  all  my  old 
chums, — who  had  not  been  killed  or  sent  to  hospi 
tal.  Most  of  these  had  known  me  since  childhood, 
and  they  called  me  by  my  familiar  nick-name.  As 
I  rode  past  them  with  my  head  up  and  my  thoughts 
away  off  yonder,  Bill,  or  George  or  some  of  them 
sang  out : 

"How  are  you,  Dickey?" 

"How  are  you  Dick  ?"  and  the  others  took  it  up, 
and  it  spread  along  the  line  like  fire  when  you  touch 
off  a  field  of  dry  broom  sage.  All  along  as  I  passed, 
I  was  hailed  with :  "How  are  you,  Dickey  ?"  "How 
are  you,  Dickey  ?"  from  regiment  to  regiment,  clear 
to  the  end  of  the  line,  where  I  found  my  man  and 
delivered  the  message. 

Beginning  with  my  home  boys,  the  army  told 
me,  or  asked  me,  rather,  "How  are  you,  Dickey?" 
for  about  six  miles.     It  fetched  me  to  the  earth 
again,  and  took  the  conceit  out  of  me,  quite. 
49 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


A  BRUSH  WITH  THE  SEMINARY  GIRLS. 


COLD  COMFORT,  AND  SOME  OTHER  THINGS, 

ABOUT  the  snow?  said  the  Old  Doctor. 
The  army  went  as  far  as  Bardstown  and 
went  into  camp.  We  staid  there  about 
three  weeks.  I  did  not  know  what  for,  till  after 
wards.  All  I  knew  was  that  the  young  officers  had 
a  glorious  time  flirting  with  the  pretty  Kentucky 
girls,  and  being  entertained  and  feasted  by  the  Con 
federate  sympathizers;  but  the  greater  part  of  the 
people  were  "Union,"  and  from  them  we  got  only 
scowls. 

I  remember,  the  medical  director  sent  me  to 
select  and  "press"  suitable  buildings  for  additional 
hospital  accommodation;  and  I  went  to  the  big 
female  seminary.,  first  pop;  a  big  two-story  brick 
building  with  plenty  of  room,  situated  in  a  lovely 
lawn.  It  would  make  an  ideal  hospital,  I  thought. 

At  the  door  I  was  met  by  the  principal.,  a  schol 
arly  looking  spare-made  gentleman,  who  was  very 
courteous  to  me.  With  him  on  the  big  front  gal 
lery, — "porch"  they  call  it  there, —  were  about  fifty 
girls,  of  the  seminary  age  and  type.  I  made  my 
mission  known,  and  such  a  hum  of  protest, — such 
an  outburst  of  indignation — amongst  the  frUnion" 
girls.  The  principal  was  very  nice  about  it,  and 
begged  that  I  would  take  his  school  buildings  only 
50 


A    BRUSH   WITH   THE    SEMINARY    GIRLS. 

as  a  last  resort  and  emergency, — to  which  request 
the  girls  added  their  petition;  and  I  hadn't  the 
heart  to  interfere  with  such  a  happy  combination. 
Another  building  was  found  and  made  to  answer 
the  purpose. 

But  those  bright-eyed  little  rogues  !  They  made 
a  picture  there  is  no  use  trying  to  describe.  I  could 
tell  every  "reb"  sympathizer  in  the  bunch  by  the 
cut  of  her  eye, — the  silent  welcome  she  gave;  and 
tho'  she  didn't  say  so,  I  could  clearly  see  and  under 
stand  that  she  felt  that  if  the  poor  sick  soldiers  of 
the  Confederacy  needed  the  buildings,  they  ought 
to  have  them,  that's  all. 

When  I  told  them  that  I  would  not  press  the 
academy  unless  we  had  a  battle  and  it  became  abso 
lutely  necessary,  you  ought  to  have  seen  the  grate 
ful  expressions  of  gladness  on  their  faces ;  and  one 
real  pretty  little  black-eyed  beauty,  evidently 
"Southern"  in  sentiment,  stepped  boldly  up  and 
pinned  a  geranium  blossom  on  my  coat.  Her  lips 
were  much  redder,  and  looked  much  sweeter  than 
the  geranium,  and  when  she  looked  up  in  my  face 
her  lips  and  eyes  had  such  an  inviting  look,  that, 
I  couldn't  have  helped  it  if  my  life  had  depended 
on  it, — just  as  quick  as  a  wink,  and  before  she  had 
time  to  dodge,  or  say  "dont,"  I  kissed  her  right 
smack  on  the  mouth  and  ran.  Such  a  fuss !  Such 
a  "my,  Jennie!"  and  "Did  you  ever!"  and  "the 
hateful  thing!"  and  "impudent  fellow!"  and  sim 
ilar  expressions,  you  never  did  hear. 
51 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

But,  I  was  a  young  officer;  vain  enough  to  be 
lieve  that  there  were  uglier  men  in  the  army  than 
I, — and  I  bet  Jennie  didn't  cry. 

^  ff  -'f  H« 

My  stars,  I  have  straggled  so,.  I  forgot  all  about 
the  snow.  I  am  worse  than  Widow  Bedott  for 
branching  off. 

When  the  army  retreated  after  the  battle  of  Per- 
ryville,  at  camp  Dick  Kobinson,  General  Hardee 
turned  over  the  command  of  his  corps  to  General 
Buckner,  the  late  "gold-bug  democrat"  candidate 
for  President.  General  Buckner  had  been  born  and 
raised  in  that  section  of  Kentucky,  and  when 
Bragg's  army  captured  Munfordsville  going  in, 
General  Buckner,  out  of  consideration  of  the  fact 
that  he  had  gone  to  school  at  that  place,  was 
granted  the  honor  of  receiving  the  surrender  and 
the  Federal  general's  sword.  The  surrender  took 
place  at  a  big  spring,  where,  Buckner  said,  he  had 
toted  water  to  the  little  school  house  many  a  time 
in  boyhood  days.  Dont  forget  to  remind  me  to  tell 
you  about  the  capture  of  Munfordsville,  for  my 
Retroscope  brings  out  some  two  or  three  humorous 
reminiscences  of  it  as  well  as  some  sad  ones. 

After  the  battle  of  Perryville,  General  Hardee 
with  his  staff  pushed  on  ahead,  making  a  hurried 
retreat  out  of  Kentucky  ahead  of  the  army.  He 
had  pressing  business,  T  reckon.  I  know  it  was 
considered  mighty  dangerous  for  so  small  a  force 
or  party,  rather,  as  a  general  with  only  his  staff 
52 


A   BRUSH   WITH   THE   SEMINARY   GIRLS. 

and  escort  of  a  cavalry  company  to  go  through 
those  mountains  alone.  At  night  we  slept  with  our 
saddles  for  pillows,  arms  handy,  and  our  horses 
picketed  right  at  hand.  In  fact,  men  and  horses 
slept  together,  if  any  sleeping  was  done;  we  didn't 
"retire,"  in  the  sense  of  "going  to  bed,"  but  slept 
with  both  eyes  open. 

Coming  through  Cumberland  Gap, — it  was  the 
most  God-forsaken,  the  most  desolate  looking  coun 
try  I  ever  saw, — it  was  getting  late  in  November, 
and  getting  to  be  very  cold, — the  only  living  thing 
I  saw  on  that  day's  march  through  the  Gap  was  an 
old  lean  ewe  sheep,  up  on  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
and  Dave,  Dr.  Yandell's  colored  cook,  cook  for  our 
mess,  whom  the  doctor  had  brought  with  him  from 
Louisville  when  he  first  came  out  to  join  the  army, 
bought,  borrowed,  begged  or  stole  that  lone  old  ewe ; 
most  likely  the  latter,  for  there  was  no  one  in  sight 
from  whom  to  borrow  or  buy.  Dave  was  a  famous 
cook;  had  been  cook  for  a  toney  restaurant  in  Lou 
isville;  and  when  we  arrived  at  Crab  Orchard 
Springs  we  had  roast  mutton  and  mushrooms  for 
dinner.  Dave  found  plenty  of  nice  mushrooms 
there,  out  in  the  old  orchard  in  which  we  biv- 
ouaced,  and  he  knew  what  to  do  with  them.  It  was 
a  feast  for  ye  tired  soldiers. 

It  was  a  clear  cold  November  afternoon.     We 

dined  about  sunset,  and  I  went  early  to  bed.     Do 

you  know, — I  hadn't  yet  gotten  "Lorena"  out  of 

my  head, — and  that  night  I  spread  out  my  vulcan- 

53 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

ized  rubber  sheet  on  the  ground, — laid  my  quilt 
on  it, — and  my  gray  blanket  on  that,  and  with 
boots,  clothes,  overcoat  and  all  on,  I  laid  down  on 
the  edge  of  my  pallet  and  rolled  myself  up  in  it, 
like  dried  apples  in  a  dried-apple  roll.  I  went  to 
sleep,  thinking,  if  not  singing — 

"The  sun's  low  down  the  sky,  Lorena, 
The  snow  is  on  the  grass  again." 

I  dont  know  what  put  it  in  my  mind,  particu 
larly;  it  was  only  incidental  to  "Lorena";  there 
wasn't  a  speck  of  cloud,  nor  the  slightest  indication 
of  snow,  but  it  fell,  all  the  same,  and  I  tell  you  now, 
that  night  was  the  most  comfortable, — it  was  the 
sweetest  night's  sleep,  the  soundest  and  the  warm 
est  sleep  I  ever  had.  Talk  about  "cold  comfort.*' 
That  was  comfortable  cold,  at  least.  I  had  covered 
up,  head  and  ears  with  the  bed  clothes,  and  my  hat 
was  over  such  of  my  hair  as  was  not  protected ;  and 
when  I  'woke,  early  next  morning,  without  a  sus 
picion  of  the  snow,  I  discovered  that  there  was 
about  six  inches  of  it  covering  me  and  my  pile  like 
a  shroud,  and  covering  everything  else.  Fact. 
54 


BREAKFAST  WITH  THE  YANKEES. 

THE  DOCTOR  TAKES  BREAKFAST 
WITH  THE  YANKEES. 


WHILE  the  surrender  was  taking  place  at 
Munfordsville,  Ky.,  of  which  I  told  you, 
begun  our  Philosopher, — assuming  an 
easy  attitude  in  his  accustomed  seat,  and  throwing 
his  fat  legs  over  the  edge  of  the  desk, — from  which 
movements  we  felt  assured  that  he  was  in  a  talking 
humor,  and  we  prepared  for  a  good  one; — it  was 
about  sunrise  one  lovely  October  morning,  an  order 
came  to  me  from  Dr.  Yandell,  Medical  Director  of 
Hardee's  corps,  to  go  into  the  village  and  take  pos 
session  of,  and  make  an  inventory  of  the  medical 
and  surgical  supplies  of  the  garrison  that  were  to 
be  turned  over  to  us  along  with  other  property. 

I  hastened  to  dress,  when, — horrors  ! — my  horse 
was  gone.  On  making  inquiry  the  colored  driver 
of  the  headquarters  amb'lance  told  me  that  my 
white  orderly  had  gone  off  on  him  to  forage.  Do 
you  fellers  know  what  foraging  is  ?  I  bet  you  dont. 
It  is  to  hunt  up  something  good  to  eat.  This  feller 
was  a  famous  hand  at  finding  it,  and  altho'  we  had 
nothing  but  Confed.  money, — which  wouldn't  pass 
muster  in  Kentucky, — he  managed,  somehow,  to 
always  come  back  with  chickens,  eggs,  milk,  honey, 
potatoes,  fruit; — something  good,  always. 

This  confounded  fellow  played    the    shrewdest 
trick  on  me  I  reckon,  that  ever  was.     He  was  so 
55 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

addicted  to  stealing,  that,  like  the  nigger  we  read 
of  in  the  joke  books,  who  used  to  slip  up  behind 
himself  and  pick  his  own  pockets  to  keep  his  hand 
in,  this  feller  while  we  were  camped  at  Bardstown, 
came  to  me  one  morning  with  a  distressed  look,  and 
stated  that  my  best  horse  was  missing,  along  with 
one  belonging  to  Captain  somebody,  I've  forgotten, 
as  that  part  of  it  was  only  to  make  the  story  go,  as 
I  learned  too  late.  As  the  horse  was  in  his  charge 
and  keeping,  he  was  responsible.  "That's  what 
hurt"  him  so,  he  said.  The  fact  that  I  looked  to 
him  to  see  that  my  horse  was  safe  and  cared  for, 
he  said,  made  him  feel  the  responsibility  dread 
fully,  and  he  vowed  that  he  was  determined  to  get 
that  "hoss"  back,  if  he  was  in  the  county ;  if  he  had 
to  go  right  into  the  yankee's  camp  to  get  it.  He 
denounced  the  thief  who  had  been  so  slick  as  to 
steal  two  horses,  he  said,  from  right  under  his  nose, 
and  made  terrible  threats  of  what  he  would  do  to 
him  if  he  just  could  get  his  hands  on  him.  Well, 
of  course,  I  gave  permission  to  him  to  go  and  search 
for  my  horse,  and  told  him  to  be  sure  and  find  him 
before  he  came  back.  He  went  in  search  of  the 
horse  and  was  gone  all  day.  Late  in  the  afternoon 
he  came  into1'  camp  on  a  pony,  and  leading  my  pet 
horse,  which  looked  as  if  it  had  been  ridden  very 
hard,  and  had  not  been  fed.  He  told  a  plausible 
story  of  heroic  daring  on  his  part,  and  described 
how  he  had  found  the  horse  in  the  stable  of  a  man 
ten  miles  off,  and  how  near  he  was  to  being  killed 
56 


BREAKFAST   WITH    THE    YANKEES. 

when  he  claimed  the  horse,  and  told  the  man  he 
would  have  it  at  the  "resk  of  his  life." 

Xow,  you  boys  will  hardly  think  I  was  green 
enough  to  swallow  that  stuff ;  but  I  was.  I  was  so 
rejoiced  to  get  my  horse,  that,  in  addition  to  thank 
ing  the  fellow,  I  gave  him  a  $50  Confed.  bill.  It 
is  unnecessary  to  say  that  the  whole  thing  was  a 
lie,  a  put  up  job  to  blackmail  me  and  to  have  a 
day's  frolic.  He  and  a  chum  had  ridden  our  horses 
to  a  frolic  some  distance  off  and  stayed  all  night. 
Afraid  to  be  seen  coming  in  after  daylight,  riding 
our  horses  looking  so  jaded,  he  hid  them  out,  and 
took  all  next  day  to  find  them. 

But  I  am  away  off  of  my  story  again.  Confound 
this  chair.  Every  time  I  sit  in  it  it  makes  me  scat 
ter.  Get  a  new  one. 

So,  to  resume  where  I  left  off,  when  I  found 
that  this  fellow  was  gone  on  my  horse  foraging 
(it  was  before  the  occurrence  just  related,  and  was 
all  right),  my  only  recourse  was  to  use  one  of  the 
amb'lance  horses.  When  I  searched  for  mv  saddle 
and  bridle,  behold,  they  were  gone  also ;  my  orderly 
had  taken  the  rig.  Hence  my  only  show  for  a  ride 
was  an  amb'lance  horse  with  a  blind-bridle  and 
bare-back.  'Twas  that  or  walk.  You  can  imagine 
what  a  figure  I  cut  as  I  rode  into  that  village  on 
such  a  turn  out,  and  dressed  as  I  was,  in  a  little 
thin  black  cloth  frock  coat,  very  thread-bare, — 
heavy  horse  leather  boots,  in  the  legs  of  which  my 
legs  looked  like  a  straw  stuck  in  a  bottle ;  great  yel- 
57 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

low  gauntlets  much  too  large  for  me,  and  reaching 
to  the  elbows;  my  slim  little  arms  would  rattle  in 
them.  I  had  on  a  military  cap  with  the  brim  or 
visor,  as  it  is  called,  half  torn  off.  Notwithstand 
ing  the  incongruity  of  the  get-up,  I  had  a  big  gold 
star  on  each  lapel;  you  bet  I  did.  Of  course  such 
an  odd  specimen  would  have  attracted  attention 
anywhere.  I  was  a  source  of  curiosity  to  the  gayly 
dressed  young  officers  of  the  garrison  with  their 
bright  spic  and  span  uniforms  on.  They  eyed  me 
with  great  curiosity,  yet  treated  me  with  the  ut 
most  respect. 

Presently  one  of  the  young  fellows  stepped  up  to 
me  with  a  very  respectful  manner,  saluting  as  to  a 
superior  officer,  and  said: 

"Will  }^ou  kindly  decide  a  dispute  for  us,  sir? 
as  to  your  rank  in  the  Confederate  army?  Your 
insignia, — two  stars, — indicate  that  you  are  a  gen 
eral  ;  that  is  the  rank  in  our  army, — and  surely  you 
are  too  young  (and  he  might  have  added,  but  he 
didn't,  tho'  no  doubt  he  thought  it :  'too  dilapidated 
and  no-count'),  to  be  a  general?" 

"Certainty,  sir,"  I  said.  "I  am  a  surgeon;  and 
the  military  rank  of  surgeon  with  us,  is  major; 
and  a  star  on  each  side  is  the  badge  or  insignia  of 
that  rank, — the  branch  of  service  or  staff  to  which 
the  wearer  belongs  being  determined  by  his  colors ; 
for  instance :  a  surgeon  wears  black  (that  was  .1 
lie;  the  uniform  consisted  of  'black  pants,  it  is  true, 
and  gray  coat  with  black  collar  and  cuffs), — cav- 
58 


BREAKFAST  WITH  THE  YAKKEES. 

airy,  yellow;  artillery,,  red;  infantry,  blue  trim- 
min's,  etc.  One  star  on  each  side  and  black 
trimmed  clothes  (I  wouldn't  say  'uniform'),  means 
a  surgeon-major;  stars,  with  yellow  trimmin's,  a 
major  of  cavalry,  etc.  The  badge  or  decoration 
for  a  colonel  is  three  stars  on  each  side;  a  lieuten 
ant-colonel,  two  stars;  a  captain,  three  bars,  etc.; 
while  a  general  wears  three  stars  surrounded  by  a 
wreath." 

He  thanked  me,  and  saluting,  backed  off  to  his 
companions  to  enlighten  them  on  the  mysteries  of 
the  Confederate  decoration,  and  explain,  if  he 
could,  how  it  happened,  as  Dick  Ledbetter  would 
say,  that  "every  feller  was  uniformed  different/' 

I  was  asked  to  take  breakfast  with  the  surgeons, 
— one  of  whom  was  a  big  fat  old  fellow  whose  name 
I  have  forgotten.  The  other  was  Dr.  A.  Flack,  a 
slim,  middle-aged  man.  I  shall  never  forget  him, 
and  I  would  like  to  know  if  he  is  still  living.  He 
was  surgeon  of  an  Indiana  cavalry  regiment, — a 
part  of  the  garrison  of  the  little  town  that  had  just 
surrendered. 

There  was  a  lot  of  amputating  cases  amongst  the 
stores  turned  over  to  me,  and  as  I  did  not  have  any 
instruments.,  I  remarked  that  I  was  going  to  buy 
one  of  these  cases  from  our  quartermaster  when 
they  were  turned  over  to  him.  Dr.  Flack  said : 

"Doctor,  those  are  contract  instruments.  They 
are  no  account  for  service;  here  is  a  Tieman's  case 
which  I  will  make  you  a  present  of,  if  you  will 
59 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

accept  it,  as,  under  the  terms  of  the  surrender  the 
surgeon's  personal  effects,  instruments  and  side- 
arms,  are  not  spoils.  But  as  I  will  have  to  walk 
back  to  Louisville,  I  done  want  to  carry  this  case. 
Please  accept  it  with  my  compliments/"  and  he 
scratched  his  name  on  the  brass  plate  with  his  knife 
blade:  "A.  Flack,  54  Ind."  (I  think  it  was  the 
54th.) 

Amongst  the  horses  turned  over  to  our  quarter 
master,  there  were  some  magnificent  ones.  You  bet 
we  young  officers  were  properly  mounted  after  that 
capture.  I  got  a  splendid  iron-gray,  a  fast  single- 
foot  racker.  Instead  of  his  being  afraid  of  any 
thing,  say,  a  hog  on  the  side  of  the  road,  for  in 
stance,  he  would  make  fight,  and  would  attack 
what  would  make  most  horses  shy  from  under  a 
saddle.  The  quartermaster  had  to  appraise  the 
value  of  a  horse  when  an  officer  wanted  to  buy, 
and  had,  of  course,  to  take  Confederate  money.  It 
would  have  been  unbecoming  a  Confederate  officer 
to  depreciate  the  money;  we  had  to  make  believe 
amongst  ourselves,  that  it  was  equal  to  gold;  so 
prices  put  on  such  property  were  low.  Just  think : 
I  paid  $65  for  that  horse.  The  money  then  was 
worth  about  20  cents  on  the  dollar,  but  the  quar 
termaster  dasen't  depreciate  it. 

I  sold  that  horse  in  Chattanooga  subsequently 
for  $4000. 

They  had  for  breakfast, — those  surgeons  did, — 
fried  breakfast  bacon  (after  beef  thirty  days  out 
60 


BREAKFAST   WITH    THE    YANKEES. 

of  every  month,  and  three  times  a  day,  the  most 
delicious  thing  that  could  have  been  set  before  a. 
famished  Confed.  sawbones),  corn  meal  muffins, 
boiled  eggs,  battercakes  with  nice  fresh  butter,  and 
honey,  and  just  oodles  of  milk, — cream,  bless  you ! 
After  breakfast  the  old  fat  doctor  handed  me  a 
cigar.  It  was  the  first  cigar  I  had  smoked  since 
the  beginning  of  the  war.  He  remarked,  "that  is 
a  real  Havana  cigar."  I  never  let  on  but  that  I 
was  used  to  smoking  that  kind  every  day.  But  he 

knew  better. 

*         *         *         * 

By-the-bye,  you  all  knew  Dr.  Bemiss, — of  course, 
—late  Professor  of  Practice  in  the  New  Orleans 
Medical  School;  everybody  knew  him  as  a  yellow 
fever  expert.  Well,  we  got  him  in  Kentucky  on 
this  raid.  He  and  Dr.  Joshua  Gore  and  a  young 
doctor  named  Bedford  joined  us  as  soon  as  we  en 
tered  the  State.  But  after  the  bloody  battle  of 
Perryville,  Dr.  Bedford  backed  out ;  went  back  to 
his  "old  Kentucky  home";  couldn't  stand  it;  too 
sanguinary  for  him.  Dr.  Bemiss  and  Dr.  Gore 
stuck,  however,  and  followed  the  fortunes  of  the 
Confederacy  till  its  banner  went  down  in  defeat  to 
rise  no  more.  Dr.  Bemiss  early  left  the  army  in 
the  field  (like  I  did;  wanted  a  softer  place).  After 
serving  a  short  time  in  hospital  he  was  taken  into 
the  office  of  the  Medical  Director  of  Hospitals,  Dr. 
Stout,  succeeding  me  as  chief  clerk.  I  found  that 
place  most  too  soft.  You  will  say  I  was  hard  to 
61 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

please.  Bemember,  I  was  young;  I  was  ambitious, 
also.  I  stated  to  Dr.  Stout,*  the  Medical  Director 
of  Hospitals,  that  in  a  position  in  his  office,  how 
ever  soft  and  secure  from  shot,  shell  and  capture, 
likewise  from  cold  and  exposure;  however  honor 
able,  it  afforded  no  opportunities  for  getting  any 
practical  knowledge  of  surgery;  that  wars  didn't 
occur  every  day,  and  that  the  chances  for  operative 
experience  afforded  by  the  war  were  too  rare  to  be 
wasted;  that  I  didn't  care  to  be  carried  through 
"on  flowery  beds  of  ease"  in  so  soft  a  place,  while 
others  were,  figuratively,  wading  through  bloody 
seas ;  and  that  I  wanted  a  place  in  some  good  warm 
and  safe  hospital,  where  I  could  study  and  practice 
surgery.  Thus  it  was  that  Dr.  Bemiss  having,  I 
presume,  all  the  practical  knowledge  of  surgery 
that  he  needed  in  his  business, — he  was  consider 
ably  older  than  I, — was  content  to  take  my  seat. 
After  he  was  inaugurated  into  my  place,  confound 
it,  the  position  which  had  been  nothing  more  than 
a  head  clerkship,  and  known  as  such,  was  dignified 
by  being  called  "Assistant  Medical  Director  of  Hos 
pitals."  I  can  account  for  that  only  on  the  grounds 
that  Bemiss  was  larger  than  I,  as  well  as  older. 

*Dr.  S.  H.  Stout,  now  of  Dallas,  Texas. 
62 


SCENTS  THE  BATTLE  FROM  AFAR. 


PERRYVILLE. 


THE  DOCTOR,  LIKE  THE  WAR  HORSE,  SCENTS 
THE  BATTLE  FROM  AFAR.— A  CAV 
ALRY  CHARGE,  ETC. 

NOW,  said  the  Old  Doctor,  taking  his  seat 
deliberately,  and  putting  a  big  "chew"  in 
the  southwest  side  of  his  mouth,  dont  you 
think  for  a  moment  that  in  telling  you  about  some 
things  that  happened  at  the  battle  of  Perryville, 
I'm  going  to  bore  you  with  a  description  a  la  war 
correspondent,  about  pouring  volleys  into  them,  and 
so  forth,,  for  I  aint.  Fm  just  going  to  give  you  a 
few  remarks,  my  way; — my  recollections  of  what  I 
saw,  not  what  I  did.  I  reckon  I  saw  more  battles 
and  participated  in  fewer  than  most  anybody.  You 
remember,  I  saw  Manassas  nearly  all  day  before 
being  ordered  up.  Well,  I  saw  this  one  all  day, 
and  when  ordered  up,,  it  was  not  to  "charge,"  but 
to  help  bring  away  the  wounded. 

The  battle  began  early, — I  had  nearly  said  "just 
after  breakfast."  It  is  told  of  one  of  the  Confed 
erate  brigadiers  that  he  divided  time  by  the  meals ; 
they  were,  with  him,  the  eras  of  each  day, — and 
that  on  one  occasion  he  reported  to  his  superior 
that  he  would  "start  in  pursuit  of  the  yankees  im 
mediately  after  breakfast,  and  if  they  didn't  cross 
the  creek  by  dinner  time,  he  thought  he  would  be 
able  to  overtake  them  about  supper  time." 
63 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

I  remember,  it  was  a  pretty,  clear,  sunshiny  day. 
Early  in  the  morning  I  was  ordered  to  take  a  posi 
tion  with  all  the  ambulances  belonging  to  that 
army  corps,  and  some  litter  bearers,  in  a  deep  ra 
vine,  and  there  await  orders.  Our  position  was 
between  two  big  hills,  and  well  sheltered  from  the 
enemy's  fire,  unless  our  army  should  be  driven 
back,  which  it  wasn't.  Well,  I  waited  all  day,  the 
battle  raging  furiously  with  varying  fortunes,  till 
near  sundown,  when  there  was  a  charge  which 
seemed  to  be  the  deciding  "throw"  in  the  game, 
and  our  folks  threw  sixes  and  won.  I  wish 
I  had  the  powers  of  Stephen  Crane  to  describe  that 
charge  a  la  "Red-badge  of  Courage,"  but  I  havn't, 
and  for  fear  of  a  flat,  I'll  go  slow.  I'll  tell  you  how 
it  was,  from  my  standpoint,  literally. 

First  part  of  the  day  I  staid  with  the  men,  for 
the  most  part  down  in  the  hollow,  out  of  danger. 
We  could  hear  the  battle ;  hear  the  rattle  and  bang, 
and  now  and  then  the  bullets  would  come  uncom 
fortably  near  us;  so  would  cannon  balls.  They 
went  over  our  heads,  cutting  limbs,  but  not  doing 
any  damage.  By-and-bye,  I  got  sorter  used  to 
it,  and  attracted  by  curiosity,  I  suppose,  more 
than  anything  else,  I  went  up  on  top  of  the  hill 
where  I  could  see  what  was  going  on.  The  fight 
was,  say,  half  mile  off,  and  seemed  to  stay  in  one 
place  all  day.  I  had  noticed  that  our  folks  had  a 
battery  right  in  front  of  where  I  was  standing.  It 
had  been  booming  all  day.  It  was  Swett's  battery, 
64 


SCENTS  THE  BATTLE  FROM  AFAR. 

of  Vicksburg,  and  was  commanded  on  that  occa 
sion  by  Lieutenant  Tom  Havern,  a  brother-in-law 
of  Colonel  Swett.  Tom  Havern  did  valiant  service 
that  day, — and,  it  is  another  one  of  those  instances 
of  the  irony  of  fate,  like  Colonel  (Lord)  Cardigan, 
who  led  the  charge  of  the  Light  Brigade  at 
Balaklava  and  came  out  unscathed,  was  killed  some 
years  later  by  the  kick  of  a  horse; — Havern  was 
killed  by  the  falling  of  a  limb  of  a  tree. 

Screened  by  a  big  white  oak  I  witnessed  this 
charge.  It  became  so  interesting  that  I  didn't 
mind  the  bullets  a  bit.  They  were  hitting  around 
me  pretty  piert,  and  grapeshot  were  limning  my 
tree  same  time,  but,  like  Cassabianca,  I  hadn't  per 
mission  yet  to  "go." 

This  charge,  I  say,  ended  the  battle.  It  surely 
was  the  grandest  sight  I  ever  witnessed.  The  bat 
tery  had  evidently  been  a  source  of  much  annoy 
ance  to  the  enemy  all  day,  and  they  made  one 
determined  effort  to  take  it.  They  undertook  to 
capture  it  by  a  charge  in  force. 

Away  on  my  left,  and  the  left  of  the  line  of  bat 
tle,  in  front  of  this  battery,  and  between  us  and 
the  setting  sun,  I  saw  vast  bodies  of  horsemen 
being  massed.  The  dark  blue  uniforms  made  the 
body  look  like  a  great  black  cloud  gathering  in  the 
west.  They  formed  in  platoons;  that  is,  about 
twenty  or  thirty  abreast,  and  came  towards  us,  at 
first,  at  a  trot.  After  they  had  gotten  under  way, 
it  seemed  to  me,  at  the  sound  of  a  shrill  call  on  the 
65 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

bugle,  every  man  drew  his  sabre,  and  holding  it 
aloft  where  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  re 
flected  and  multiplied  a  thousand  times,  they  stood 
up  in  their  stirrups  and  came  at  a  sweeping  run. 
Havern,  having  meantime  ceased  to  fire,  double- 
shotting  each  gun,  held  it  till  the  charge  was  nearlv 
on  him ;  till  "we  could  see  the  whites  of  their  eyes," 
as  one  of  the  gunners  told  me  afterwards.  On  they 
came  like  a  blue  tornado, — a  black  cyclone,  bent 
on  death  and  destruction,  as  it  was,  in  very  truth. 
The  earth  trembled.  There  was  a  roar  as  of  a 
whirlwind,  or  the  "rushing  of  many  waters."  Pic 
ture  the  scene  if  you  can.  "The  sheen  on  the 
spears"  of  the  Assyrians,  that  time  they  "came 
down  like  a  wolf  on  the  fold,"  you  remember,  when, 
Byron  says,  it 

-  was  like  the  stars  on  the  sea, 
Where  the  blue  wave  rolls  nightly  on  deep  Galilee" 

wasn't  a  circumstance  to  the  myriads  of  sunflashes 
glinting  from  that  sea  of  uplifted  sabres,  as  that 
mighty  mass  came  on,  hurled  by  the  Titans  of 
war  upon  the  handful  of  devoted  gunners  in  gray. 
Oh,  it  was  as  if  all  the  furies  of  hell  had  been 
loosed  for  the  occasion. 

Havern  held  his  fire  until  the  cavalry  seemed  to 
me  to  be  about  to  run  over  the  battery,  when  six 
double-shotted  guns,  charged  with  canister  shot 
were  turned  loose  at  once.  Such  a  blow,  right  in 
the  face,  of  course  staggered  them.  The  charge  was 
66 


SCENTS  THE  BATTLE  FROM  AFAR. 

arrested  in  mid-career,  horses  and  men  hurled  back 
on  those  behind  them,  hundreds  going  down  under 
the  fearful  discharge,  to  be  trampled  by  the  horses' 
hoofs  out  of  all  semblance  of  humanity. 

-  horse  and  rider,  - 
In  one  red  burial  blent." 

Oh,  it  was  dreadful !  Horrible  beyond  the  power 
of  language  to  describe !  The  charge  recoiled  upon 
itself ;  staggered ;  then  the  trumpeter  sounded  "The 
Ketreat,"  and  not  a  man  reached  the  guns. 

That  settled  it.  The  battle  was  lost  and  won. 
"Grim  visaged  war"  for  the  nonce,  "smoothed  his 
wrinkled  front,"  and  whistling  to  his  "dogs,"  now 
full  fed  on  "havoc,"  they  licked  their  gory  chops 
as  they  slunk  away  in  the  gathering  gloom.  Pity 
wept.  Mercy,  frightened  away  by  the  din  early  in 
the  day,  now  returned,  and  driving  away  the  black 
angel,  summoned  her  minions,  the  surgeons,  to 
come  and  repair  the  damage. 

I  went  up  with  the  ambulances.  Oh,  horrors 
upon  horrors.  Who  can  depict  the  horrors  of  a 
battlefield  after  such  butchery.  Shame  upon 
shame !  Brothers,  of  one  blood,  of  one  race !  Let's 
drop  the  curtain.  It  makes  me  sick  even  now,  to 
think  of  what  I  saw  that  night  and  the  next  and 
the  next.  I  wouldn't,  if  I  could,  describe  it.  My 
Eetroscope  goes  back  on  me,  and  I  am  glad  of 
it ;  dont  know  how  I  ever  got  onto  such  a  disagree- 
67 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

able  subject,  unless  it  was  that  bad  cigar  I  smoked 
xa  while  ago. 

With  my  ambulances  and  litter  bearers  I  went 
up  to  the  scene  of  conflict,  and  all  night,  and  all 
next  day  I  was  engaged  in  hauling  off  the  wounded ; 
first,  to  temporary  hospitals  or  field  hospitals,  as 
they  are  called,  where  the  wounded  received  the 
first  attention ;  then  to  Harrodsburg,  ten  miles  dis 
tant,  where  there  were  general  hospitals  already 
established  for  the  continued  treatment  of  the 
wounded.  Of  course,  all  these  wounded  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy,  as  General  Bragg  got  out 
of  Kentucky  as  fast  as  possible.  The  battle  was 
conceded  to  the  Confederates  as  a  victory.  It  was 
a  dearly  bought  one,  a  few  more  of  which  would 
have  soon  ruined  us.  True,  we  took  many  guns, 
and  got  a  lot  of  stuff ;  but  Fll  tell  you  of  that  later ; 
the  subsistence  stuff,  stuff  we  needed  in  our  busi 
ness,  and  could  use. 

At  Harrodsburg  all  night,  along  with  a  score  or 
so  of  other  surgeons,  I  operated  or  dressed  wounds. 
That  was  the  second  night,  mind  you,  without  rest 
and  without  food.  I  was  nearly  starved. 

I  was  adjusting  a  splint  to  the  arm  of  a  wounded 
man,  when  a  pretty,  plump  girl  of  about  twenty 
came  to  me  and  said : 

"Doctor,  can  I  help  you?" 

I  thanked  her,  and  said  that  if  the  ladies  would 
see  that  the  wounded  got  something  to  eat,  it  would 
be  greatlv  appreciated.  (I  was  unselfish  in  the  re- 


SCENTS  THE  BATTLE  FKOM  AFAR. 

quest;  I  wasn't  wounded,  tho'  I  wanted  something 
to  eat  pretty  bad  myself ;  I  said  nothing  about  that, 
however. )  She  said : 

"I  helped  Dr.  Bateman  amputate  a  man's  leg- 
just  now ;  see  ?"  and  raising  up  her  skirt,  the  skirt 
of  her  dark  calico  dress,  showed  me  where  her  un 
derskirts  were  bespattered  with  the  characteristic 
spirting  of  an  artery. 

"If  that  is  what  you  mean,"  said  I,  "you  can 
help  me,  and  thank  you,  too." 

Well,  sirs,  that  girl  just  pitched  in, — she  had 
been  pitching  in  before  I  made  her  acquaintance, — 
and  rendered  as  intelligent  assistance  as  a  surgeon 
could  have  done,  after  showing  her  a  little.  Why, 
she  could  pick  up  an  artery  with  the  tenaculum  as 
quick  as  a  wink,  and  put  a  string  around  it  before 
you  could  say  "scat"  to  a  rat.  Besides  that,  she 
administered  chloroform  for  me  more  than  once. 
Oh,  she  was  a  brave  girl.  She  was  a  heroic  girl,  a 
Southern  sympathizer.  She  said  her  name  was 
Betty  Johnson ;  I  wonder  what  ever  became  of  her  ? 

In  connection  with  that  night's  work,  I  am  re 
minded  of  a  circumstance  that  may  be  thought  in 
teresting.  There  was  a  man  who  was  shot  in  the 
left  side,  just  below  the  ribs.  A  buckshot  had 
entered  his  body,  and  if  it  came  out  there  was  noth 
ing  to  show  for  it.  There  was  a  little  bit  of  a  hole 
just  over  the  spleen,  and  from  it  protruded  a 
tongue-like  slip  of  flesh  about  as  big  as  one's  fore 
finger.  It  was  part  of  the  spleen.  It  was  clasped 
C9 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

tightly  by  the  orifice  of  the  wound,  and  looker] 
blueish.  I  just  tied  a  silk  string  around  it  and  ciu 
it  off  close  up  and  dropped  the  stump  back  in  the 
abdomen.  I  didn't  know  what  else  to  do ;  I  washed 
it,  of  course ; — we  didn't  know  anything  about  anti 
septics  then,  you  know.  There  was  nothing  else 
to  do,  in  fact.  It  so  turned  out  that  that  was  jnsr 
the  correct  thing.  I  had  not  read  much  medical 
literature  at  that  time,  and  did  not  know,  and  for 
many  years  afterwards  did  not  know  that  there 
was  no  record  of  anybody  ever  having  amputated 
the  spleen  or  a  part  of  the  spleen  for  gunshot 
wound.  Some  years  after  the  war,  after  "Otis' 
History  of  the  Surgery  of  the  Rebellion"  was"  pub 
lished,  some  one  told  me  that  this  case  was  men 
tioned  in  that  work;  that  the  Federal  surgeons  on 
taking  charge  of  Harrodsburg  and  the  wounded 
we  left  there,  had  noticed  this  case,  the  man  stating 
to  them  what  I  had  done;  "just  cut  her  off  and 
dropped  her,  string  and  all,  back  into  the  cavity."' 
The  chronicler  regretted  being  "unable  to  get  the 
name  of  the  operator."  Well,  I  was  the  operator. 
I  was,  thus  unconsciously,  the  first  surgeon  to  "am 
putate  the  spleen  or  a  part  of  the  spleen  for  gun 
shot  wound."  I  am  late  claiming  it.  It  aint  any 
great  glory,  and  I  wouldn't  care  a  cent  if  it  had 
never  been  heard  of.  I  aint  proud  a  bit. 
70 


QUESTIONABLE    SPOILS. 


QUESTIONABLE  SPOILS, 


T  UST  before  we  reached  Glasgow,  a  small  town 
J  in  Kentucky,  we  came  to  a  cross-roads  store. 
I  was  told  that  on  arrival  of  the  first  of  our 
foJks  they  found  the  store  deserted  and  locked  up. 
Who  opened  it  I  do  not  know.  When  our  party 
arrived  I  found  gray-backs  swarming  inside  like 
bees  in  a  hive,  and  they  were  mostly  officers.  Some 
of  our  party,  myself  amongst  them,  got  sufficient 
cloth  to  make  us  a  suit,  each,  and  I  took  possession 
of  a  two-ounce  vial  of  prussic  acid.  I  was  afraid 
some  fellow  would  get  hold  of  it  who  did  not  know 
what  it  was, — did  not  appreciate  the^  beauty  of  its 
uses  upon  proper  occasion.  After  my  observations 
on  the  field  of  battle  and  in  hospitals  I  regarded  it 
as  a  boon  to  be  cherished  in  case  of  being  badly 
wounded,  or,  what  I  regarded  as  worse,  being  sent 
a  prisoner  to  Johnson's  Island.  In  either  case  it 
would  make  my  quietus,  give  me  the  means  of 
euthanasia.  It's  the  stuff,  you  remember,  that 
stood  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  so  well  in  hand  in  a  tight, 
enabled  him  to  cheat  the  gallows,  and  "fool"  the 
police.  It  enabled  the  oily  Oily  Gammon  to  do  like 
wise,  and  in  addition  he  worked  the  insurance  com 
pany,  you  remember,  in  favor  of  a  little  girl  he 
had  wronged;  about  the  only  virtuous  act  he  ever 
did;  virtuous,  even  if  it  were  criminal.  See  "Ten 
71 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Thousand  a  Year,"  the  best  novel  in  the  English 
language. 

Now,  you  fellers  needn't  ask ;  of  course  we  would 
have  paid  or  offered  to  pay  for  the  things  we  took, 
if  there  had  been  anybody  there  to  pay;  but  as  we 
had  nothing  but  Confed.  scrip,  I  suppose  it  is  all 
the  same ;  they  wouldn't  have  received  it ; — but,  we 
just  had  to  have  the  cloth  and  things,  you  see? 
Ketribution  overtook  every  one  of  us.  I'm  glad  of 
it.  I  could  never  have  worn  that  cloth  with  my 
customary  pride  and  self-respect.  I'm  sure  it 
would  have  been  a  Nessus'  shirt  on  my  back. 

Now,  I  see  you  smirking ;  faint  no  "sour  grapes" 
at  all.  It  was  just  fate.  When  we  arrived  at  Glas 
gow,  of  course,  we  under  officers  did  not  know  how 
long  we  were  going  to  stay,  and  had  not  doubted 
that  we  would  rest  long  enough  at  least,  to  have  a 
suit  of  clothes  made.  So  we, — those  of  us  who  had 
"provided"  for  an  outfit  (self-respect  will  not  allow 
me  to  call  a  spade  a  spade  in  this  case),  had  our 
measures  taken,  and  the  old  tailor  promised  us  our 
suits  in  a  week.  Before  sundown  that  same  day 
we  were  out  of  Glasgow,  and  going  west.  At  the 
appointed  time, — we  were  at  or  near  Munfordsville 
by  that  time, — one  of  the  staff  officers  who  was  "in 
it,"  that  is,  had  a  suit  in  prospective,  detailed  one 
of  the  privates  of  the  escort  and  sent  him  back  to 
Glasgow  with  a  note  for  our  suits.  We  never  saw 
the  "hair  nor  the  hide"  of  the  feller  afterwards. 
His  name  was  Corey  (it's  unnecessary  to  say  that 
72 


RECOLLECTIONS   OF    BACON. 

our  name  was  "Dennis'7).  Whether  he  was  shot 
by  the  bushwhackers,  arrested  and  shot  as  a  spy, 
or  whether  he  got  awa}T  with  our  outfits,  deserted, 
go  ask  ye  whisperin'  winds;  /  dorit  know. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  BACON -LIKE  WISE 
OF  PORK. 


WHEN"  Bragg's  army  was  retreating  from 
Kentucky, — and  we  came  as  rapidly  as 
circumstances  would  admit,  for,  you  see, 
we  were  loaded, — said  the  Genial  Philosopher,  on 
this  visit  to  our  sanctum,  when  he  had  "blowed  a 
little,"  he  said,  after  pulling  up  those  steep  steps. 
(Hudson  grinned  and  said  to  Bennett,  solo  voce, 
that  the  Doctor  "blowed"  most  of  the  time.  Good 
thing  he  didn't  hear  it.)  We  had  to  pass  through 
Cumberland  Gap  again.  It  was  a  most  desolate 
country,  and  was  swarming  with  bushwhackers  at 
the  time.  We  had  bitten  off  more  than  we  could 
chew,  to  use  a  more  recent  aphorism, — our  quar 
termasters  and  commissary  officers  made  hay  to 
some  purpose  while  the  sun  shone;  that  is,  they 
collected  supplies  of  every  kind  and  stored  them 
at  various  points  along  our  line  of  retreat  in  greater 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

quantities  than  we  could  handle  for  want  of  trans 
portation.  As  it  was,  the  wagon  train  stretched 
over  miles  and  miles  of  road,  and  greatly  retarded 
the  retreat  of  the  army.  I  have  forgotten  how 
many  thousand  wagon  loads  we  had,  and  how  many 
droves  of  fat  beeves  we  got  away  with.  But  at 
several  points  there  were  stored  churches  full  of 
stuff  —  guns,  bacon,  jeans,  Kentucky  jeans  (home 
spun  and  highly  prized),  pickled  pork,  etc.,  and 
having  no  transportation  for  it,  it  had  to  be  burned 
up.  What  a  pity  !  But,  that's  war,  you  know  ;  "I 
cant  have  it,  and  you  shant."  Wei],  at  Camp  Dick 
Eobinson  it  was  necessary  to  do  the  burning  act, 
and  the  infantry  men  passing  along  were  told  that 
they  could  have  all  they  could  get  away  with.  Well, 
sirs,  —  it  was  the  funniest  sight  you  ever  saw  (how 
ever,  as  you  didn't  see  it,  we'll  say,  the  funniest 
sight  imaginable),  to  see  about  six  miles  of  bayo 
nets,  each  one  bearing  aloft  a  side  of  bacon,  or  a 
ham,  or  a  bolt  of  jeans  !  The  hot  sun  made  the 
grease  run  out  of  the  meat  in  streams,  and  it 
trickled  down  on  the  feller's  faces  and  necks  and 
backs,  and  then  the  red  dust  would  settle  on  it,  and 
it  was  a  funny  combination;  they  looked  like  a 
bedraggled  Mardi  Gras.  Some  of  the  officers  had 
a  side  of  bacon  strapped  behind  their  saddles. 
74 


sr 
* 


SOMEBODY'S  DARLING. 


MANY  of  the  soldiers  were  barefooted,  con 
tinued  the  Doctor,  after  a  moment's  hesi 
tation.  Cold  weather  was  coining  on, 
too.  It  was  painful  to  see  the  boys,  some  of  them, 
hobbling  along  with  sore  and  bleeding  feet  over  the 
stony  mountain  roads,  but  they  were  always  cheer 
ful,  even  merr}7,  and  ever  ready  for  a  joke,  or  to 
guy  some  comrade.  It  is  astonishing  what  kept 
up  their  spirits,  for  they  suffered  every  privation 
and  hardship.  At  Cumberland  Gap,  going  in,  I 
saw  shelled  corn  issued  for  the  "ration"  for  supper 
and  breakfast.  Riding  along  in  the  headquarters 
ambulance,  of  which  I  told  you,  coiled  up  snugly 
with  comforts,  etc.,  I  overtook  a  "Johnny,"  the 
name  of  all  and  singular  of  the  Confederate  soldier, 
• — a  boy  of  perhaps  eighteen  years,  barefooted, 
limping  along  with  bleeding  feet.  As  he  limped 
along  with  gun  on  shoulder, — he  had  dropped  out 
of  the  ranks  and  was  "going  it  alone," — he  was 
throwing  grains  of  corn  into  his  mouth,  and  seem 
ingly  enjoying  his  breakfast.  I  said : 

"Hello,  Johnny,  have  you  had  any  breakfast  ?" 
"Yes,"  said   he,   "had   what    the  others   had, — 
cawn." 

I  took  from  my  haversack  a  piece  of  meat  and 
a  piece  of  bread  that  Dave,  the  cook,  had  put  up 
for  my  noon  lunch,  and  gave  it  to  him.     He  ac- 
75 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

cepted  it  without  thanks  or  comment.,  and  went  to 
eating  it  in  a  very  matter-of-course  way.  I  said : 

"Where  are  your  shoes,  Johnny?" 

"Havn't  got  any/"'  was  the  laconic  reply,  between 
mouthfuls.  I  took  out  my  best  boots,  for  I  had 
this  extra  pair,  which  were  really  too  light  for  ser 
vice,  and  I  only  kept  them  for  social  affairs,  and 
asking  him  "what  size  do  you  wear?"  and  if  he 
thought  he  could  get  his  hoofs  into  these?  threw 
them  to  him.  He  said  he  could  wear  anything  he 
could  get  his  foot  into,  and  while  they  "wern't  any 
great  shakes,"  he  said,  "they  beat  no  shoes,  pretty 
bad."  The  last  I  saw  of  Johnny  he  was  sitting  on 

a  rock  on  the  roadside  tugging  at  the  boots. 
#         #         #         # 

It  was  a  little  after  da}^light  that  morning  when 
I  came  upon  a  company  of  infantry,  just  breaking 
camp ;  or,  rather,  about  to  leave  the  spot  where  they 
had  bivouaced,  and  resume  the  march.  Some 
eight  or  ten  men  were  standing  around  the  remains 
of  a  camp  fire,  by  which  was  lying  a  boy  of  perhaps 
sixteen  or  eighteen  years  of  age,  apparently  in  -\ 
trance.  As  I  rode  up  one  of  the  party  said : 

"Here  comes  a  surgeon,  now." 

They  told  me  that  "Henry"  (they  called  him 
"Henry"),  had  sat  up  late  the  night  before,  cook 
ing  rations  for  the  march;  that  they  all  went  to 
sleep  and  left  him  cooking, — and  when  they  got 
up,  they  found  him  "just  like  he  is  now,"  they 
said,  and  "couldn't  wake  him."  I  dismounted, 
76 


and  carefully  examined  the  poor  boy,  and  there 
were  no  signs  of  life,  tho"  he  was  still  warm.  Arti 
ficial  respiration  was  tried;  hot  water  dashed  over 
the  region  of  the  heart  also  failed  to  start  the  pul 
sation.  I  held  a  small  pocket  mirror  over  his 
mouth  and  nose,  but  there  was  not  a  sign  of  res 
piration.  The  boy  was  dead. 

He  was  roughly  clad,  and  looked  like  a  farmer 
boy.  In  one  hand  he  held  an  ambrotype  (that  was 
the  prevalent  kind  of  pictures,  then;  photographs 
had  not  come  into  use  in  the  South).  It  is  evident 
that  the  last  thing  the  boy  did  before  the  death 
angel  closed  his  young  eyes,  was  to  gaze  on  that 
picture, — lovingly.  We  took  it  tenderly  from  his 
grasp;  it  was  the  picture  of  a  plain,  faded, 
wrinkled  old  woman,  of  the  commoner  sort, — the 
poorer  country  people.  It  was  his  mother.  Ah, 
to  his  childish  eyes  she  was  not  old,  nor  wrinkled, 
nor  ugly,  nor  faded,  nor  common.  To  him  she  was 
beautiful;  she  was  young;  she  was  the  apotheosis 
of  all  that  was  lovely  and  lovable.  She  was 
"mother."  Alas,  poor  mother.  It  is  doubtful  if 
she  ever  heard'  when,  where  or  if  he  died.  She 
may  be  waiting  yet  for  his  coming.  Poor  mother. 
*  *  *  "Plain,"  "'common,"  "only  a  private,"  a 
"•'conscript"  most  likely, — his  loss  will  not  be  felt; 
"only  one  of  the  men," — a  unit  in  the  great  whole, 
he  will  not  be  missed.  But  oh,  how  dear  was  he  to 
that  simple  old  mother !  He  was  her  "boy,"  her 
son,  her  darling. 

77 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Weep,  poor  mother,  as  weep  thousands  of  hearts 
wrung  by  a  common  grief,  and  each  with  a  grief 
of  its  own. 

In  the  distant  aiden  shall  she  clasp  her  long-lost 
boy?  Away  beyond  the  skies, — where  there  are  no 
wars, — no  conscript  officers, — no  partings, — no 
death; -before  that  great  white  Throne  where  there 
are  no  distinctions  of  persons,  shall  her  grief  be 
'suaged  ? — her  tears  dried  ? 


'SMALL  GAME"  FOR  A  BIG  STAKE. 


THE  LITTLE  CAPTAIN'S  TOAST,  AND  WHAT 
HAPPENED. 

THE  Old  Doctor  came  in  late  one  afternoon, 
and   taking   his   seat,   said   that   he   could 
only  stay  a  few  minutes ;  and  that  he  wasn't 
in  a  talking  humor.     He  didn't  want  anybody  to 
ask  him  any  questions. 

I  expressed  the  hope  that  he  wasn't  sick. 
Oh,  no,  he  said;  only  I've  been  lookin'  thro'  the 
wrong   end   of   my    Eetroscope, — contrary   to    my 
principles,  and  before  I  was  aware  of  it  here  had 
<3ome  trooping  before  my  mental  vision  a  whole  lot 
of  unpleasant  recollections,  and  it  has  depressed 
78 


me  somewhat,  and  I  havn't  gotten  entirely  over  it, 
altho'  I  have  taken  a  bath  and  disinfected  myself. 

"How  on  earth  do  you  disinfect  yourself,  Doc 
tor  ?"  said  I. 

Why,  by  reading  up  on  James  Whitcomb  Eiley 
and  Mark  Twain.  They  are  the  best  antidotes  for 
the  "blues"  I  know  of;  they  are  antiseptic,  for 
"blues"  is  pizen.  It  will  take  me  a  week  to  get  into 
good  talking  trim,  at  least,  and  then  I'll  tell  you 
about  the  time  we  captured  Munfordsville,  Ken 
tucky,  and  what  happened  about  three  days  before 
the  arrival  of  the  army;  I  mean  the  main  army — 
Bragg7  s  army. 

You  see,  the  army  was  composed  of  two  army 
corps;  one  commanded  by  General  Leonidas  Polk 
(an  Episcopal  minister,  a  Bishop,  by-the-bye,  you 
remember),  who  was  killed  later  by  a  cannon  shot 
at  Kennesaw  Mountain  in  sight  of  Marietta,  Ga., 
where  I  was  stationed  at  the  time;  and  the  other 
by  Genera]  Hardee ;  both  lieutenant-generals. 

Brigadier-General  James  E.  Chalmers,  after 
wards  Congressman  from  Mississippi,  and  lately 
deceased,  in  command  of  a  brigade  of  Mississippi 
troops  that  had  won  the  name  of  "The  Fighting 
Brigade"  (as  if  all  brigades  were  not  "fighting 
brigades"),  and  he  thought  he  could  just  do  any 
thing  with  them, — had  assaulted  the  place  and  was 
repulsed  with  a  loss  of  two  hundred  of  his  Missis 
sippi  boys  killed,  and  twice  as  many  wounded.  He 
was  much  censured  for  it,  because,  acting  as  ad- 
79 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

vance  guard  of  the  army.,  lie  had  no  instructions 
to  make  an  attack  on  a  fortified  place,  especially 
when  he  did  not  know  the  strength  of  the  garrison, 
which  was  the  case  in  this  instance. 

The  little  village  of  Munfordsville  nestled  down 
between  three  mountains,  separated  by  two  little 
clear  streams  which  unite  there  and  form  Green 
river;  part  of  the  town  is  on  each  side  of  the  river. 
It  was  held  by  Brigadier- General  Wilder,  of  the 
Federal  army,  with  a  brigade  of  splendid  cavalry, 
4500  strong;  Chalmers  had  2800  infantry. 

The  place  was  fortified  by  pine  poles  six  or  eight 
inches  in  diameter,  split  in  two  pieces,  and  driven 
in  the  ground,  slantin'  outwards.  They  were  about 
fifteen  feet  high.  Under  the  slope,  all  around,  was 
a  ditch  full  of  water.  These  poles  were  not  an 
inch  apart ;  they  formed  an  almost  solid  wall,  with 
loop-holes  through  which  to  fire ;  and  the  trees  and 
bushes  all  around  had  been  cut  down,  and  the 
trunks  and  limbs  were  so  arranged  as  to  obstruct 
a  charge  by  the  enenry,  and  subject  him  to  a  fire 
from  the  loop-holes  while  tangled  up  in  the  abattis. 
Even  if  Chalmers'  men  could  have  charged  through 
the  clearing,  and  gotten  over  this  terrible  abattis, 
a  veritable  death  trap,  when  they  had  reached  the 
ditch  they  could  not  cross  it;  nor  was  it  possible 
to  scale  the  walls  without  ladders.  The  fort  was 
simply  impregnable. 

But  Chalmers  charged  it.  My  brother,  who  com 
manded  a  company  in  the  Tenth  Mississippi,  in- 
80 


formed  me  lately,  that  after  Chalmers  had  gotten 
his  men  tangled  up  in  the  abattis  he  could  neither 
advance  nor  retreat; — had  to  "get  somebody  to 
help  him  let  loose/7 — and  that  it  was  only  by  a  ruse 
that  he  was  enabled  to  withdraw  his  men.  At 
nearly  night  he  sent  in  a  flag  of  truce  and  asked 
permission  to  carry  off  his  wounded.  It  was.,  of 
course,  granted,  and  under  cover  of  darkness  and 
this  truce,  he  withdrew  his  men. 

It  was  currently  reported,  and  generally  believed, 
that  General  Chalmers  was  in  doubt  as  to  whether 
he  should  attack  the  place,  or  wait  till  the  arrival 
of  the  main  army,  and  that  he  and  his  young  staff 
officers  played  a  game  of  "seven-up"  to  decide  it. 
Chalmers  won,  and  that  meant  "assault,"  and  he 
"assaulted/7 — butted  his  brains  out,  figuratively. 

I  do  not  know  whether  this  is  true  or  not,  con 
tinued  the  Old  Doctor,  but  it  probably  is.  Those 
gay  youngsters  would  play  cards,  you  know,  and 
they'd  bet  on  anything.  They  were  very  daredevils, 
and  did  not  stop  at  anything. 

It  is  a  very  remarkable  coincidence  that  this 
same  General  Chalmers  attacked  Fort  Pickens 
earlier  in  the  war,  and  was  badly  repulsed,  and  that 
the  same  General  Wilder  was  in  command  of  the 
garrison  at  Fort  Pickens.  Looks  like  having  had 
his  fingers  burnt  once,  would  have  made  him  a 
little  more  cautious  how  he  tackled  Wilder. 

Chalmers  was  only  about  26  years  of  age,  and 
was  as  ambitious  as  he  was  handsome  and  brave. 
81 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

In  that  fatal  assault,  amongst  the  other  gallant 
Mississippians,  needlessly  sacrificed,  was  the  brave 
and  much  beloved  colonel  of  the  10th  Mississippi 
infantry,  Colonel  Bob  Smith,  of  Jackson,  Miss.  I 
went  in  under  a  flag  of  truce  to  see  him,  when 
Bragg  had  arrived  with  his  army  two  or  three  days 
later,  but  Colonel  Smith  was  past  knowing  any  one. 
I  notice  in  the  "Confederate  Veteran"  that  a  gran 
ite  shaft  has  been  erected  by  the  Mississippi  people 
to  his  memory,  on  the  spot  where  he  fell.  My 
brother,  captain  of  one  of  Smith's  companies,  and 
whom  you  all  know,  was  desperately  wounded  while 

leading  his  men  over  that  murderous  abattis. 
*         *         *         * 

About  2  o'clock  on  the  third  day  after  the  as 
sault,  the  army  arrived,  and  bivouaced  all  around 
the  little  town  on  the  mountains.  That  night,  when 
the  camp  fires  were  lighted,  General  Wilder  saw 
that  an  army  had  arrived  in  force,  and  sent  out  a 
flag,  and  offered  to  surrender,  or  in  reply  to  a 
demand  to  surrender,  I  do  not  know  which.  That 
is  the  surrender  of  which  I  told  you,  I  believe, 
before;  the  one  conducted  by  General  S.  B.  Buck 
ner,  out  of  compliment  to  him,  he  having  gone  to 
school  at  Munfordsville  when  a  boy. 

After  General  Wilder  had  handed  his  sword  to 

General  Buckner,  the  men  all  having  stacked  arms 

and  were  prisoners,  he  asked  General  Buckner  what 

force  we  were  in,  as  he  wished  to  know  whether  he 

82 


had  surrendered  to  anything  like  an  equal  number 
without  making  a  fight.  General  Buckner  said : 

"I  shall  not  tell  you  anything  more,  than  if  you 
had  not  surrendered  at  daylight,  in  an  hour,  we 
would  have  opened  fire  on  the  fort  with  seventy- 
eight  cannon." 

"Good  Lord/'  said  General  Wilder,  "you  would 

have  blown  us  off  of  the  face  of  the  earth." 
*         *         *         * 

But  I'm  getting  ahead  of  my  stor}'. 

About  2  p.  m.  General  Hardee,  with  his  staff  and 
escort,  arrived  on  the  south  side  of  the  town,  on 
top  of  one  of  the  mountains,  on  which  there  was 
a  road,  and  we  rode  into  a  little  grove  on  the  road 
side,  and  dismounted  to  go  into  camp,  or  bivouac, 
rather;  no  tents,  you  know. 

ISTow,  I  had  a  nice  saddle  horse,  and  a  white  "or 
derly"  (servant)  ;  besides,  the  amb'lance  that  be 
longed  to  headquarters,  driven  by  a  negro  boy,  was 
in  my  charge;  and  in  it  were  carried  the  medical 
supplies  for  headquarters,  as  well  as  my  valise  and 
blankets,  etc.,  on  the  march.  When  I  got  tired 
riding  horseback,  I'd  coil  up  in  the  amb'lance  and 
take  it  easy,  see  ?  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  early  de 
veloped  a  wonderful  faculty  for  finding  comfortable 
places,  and  I  somehow  escaped  much  harship  that 
others  felt.  You  bet  I  got  out  of  the  field  before 
the  severity  of  winter  set  in,  and  the  offer  of  the 
empty  honor,  later,  of  being  appointed  assistant 
medical  director  on  Bragg's  staff  could  not, — did 
83 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

not,  tempt  me  to  go  back.  When,  after  leaving  the 
Medical  Board  and  General  Hardee's  party  later, — 
I  was  assigned  to  duty  at  Chattanooga,  Dr.  Eich- 
ardson  of  New  Orleans,  now  deceased,  was  then 
medical  director.  He  was  transferred  to  Eich- 
mond  at  his  request,  and  Dr.  Flewellyn,  of  Geor 
gia,  was  made  medical  director  in  his  stead.  Dr. 
Flewellyn  did  me  the  honor  to  ask  me  to  accept  the 
position  of  assistant  medical  director,  made  vacant 
by  his  promotion.  Declined  with  thanks.  I  had 
then  a  soft  thing,  and  I  preferred  it  to  a  hard 
thing  with  more  "honors" ;  and  life  in  the  field,  in 
the  mountains  of  Tennessee  in  snow  time,  was  a 
hard  thing,  you  bet.  But  I  have  scattered  again; 
Dan'els,  cant  you  hold  me  down  to  a  steady  gait? 
I'm  awful  at  breaking. 

Amongst  other  "medical  stores7'  in  that  amb'- 
lance  in  my  charge,  was  a  five-gallon  demijohn  of 
real  good  old  Kentucky  whiskey — bourbon.  That 
I  was  popular  with  the  staff  (on  that  account) 
goes  without  saying.  Excepting  Dr.  Yandell  and 
the  members  of  the  Board  of  Examiners,  the  staff 
officers  were  young  men.  There  was  Captain  Wil- 
kins,  aide-de-camp,  the  same  Judge  Wilkins  now 
of  Sherman,  Texas;  Captain  Eoy,  A.  A.  G. ;  Cap 
tain  Dave  White,  aide;  Major  Hoskins,  chief  of 
artillery;  Dr.  Breysacher,  medical  inspector,  now 
living  at  Little  Eock,  Ark. ;  Dr.  Lunsford  P.  Yan 
dell,  Jr.,  the  late  popular  lecturer  in  Memphis  Med 
ical  College,  brother  to  the  medical  director,  several 
84 


others,  and  last,  but  not  least  (tho?  he  was  the 
smallest  one  in  the  lot),  was  Captain  Harry  Dash, 
aide,  the  same  Harry  Dash  now  of  the  big  grocery 
firm  of  Dash,  Lewis  &  Co.,  New  Orleans.  Dash 
was  a  poet;  had  written  a  small  volume  of  poems 
at  that  time.  Well,  when  we  halted  and  dismounted 
and  hitched  our  horses,  the  first  thing  was, — to  see 
how  the  "medical  stores"  were  holding  out.  The 
examination  extended  only  to  the  demijohn,  how 
ever. 

I  made  my  orderly  get  out  the  demijohn,  and 
seated  on  the  grass  with  the  demijohn  in  the  center 
of  the  circle  formed  by  the  young  staff  officers  just 
mentioned,  we  had  each  poured  out  about  two  fin 
gers  in  our  tin  cups,  and  Captain  Dash  had  said : 
"Hold  up,  boys,  I  want  to  propose  a  toast." 
So,  with  cup  in  hand, — no  thought  of  the  old 
adge, — "many  a  slip,"  each  sat,  expectant, — cup 
uplifted, — listening  to  the  toast.  It  was  long,  aye, 
very  long,  to  thirsty,  weary  pilgrims, — and  before 
it  was  finished, — Dash  was  saying  something  about 
an  elephant  having  a  trunk,  and  not  being  allowed 
to  cross  the  Cumberland  with  it;  I  didn't  hear  it 
out, — here  came  a  shot  from  the  besieged  garrison, 
a  Parrott-shell,  screaming  over  our  heads,  and 
burst  right  in  our  midst.  Before  it  exploded  every 
feller  had  thrown  himself  down  flat  on  the  ground, 
and  in  so  doing,  had  not  only  spilt  his  whiskey,  but 
we  kicked  over  the  demijohn,  and  lost  the  last  drop 
of  the  precious  medical  supply.  Fortunately  no- 
85 


KECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  EEBEL  SURGEON. 

body  was  hurt.     But  that  was  the  most  indignant 
crowd  of  youngsters  you  ever  saw. 

What  did  we  do  ?  Why,  Wilkins  and  White  just 
seized  the  little  captain,  after  damning  his  toast, 
and  damning  his  eyes, — and  taking  him  by  the  legs 
and  arms,  with  his  back  swung  near  the  ground, 
just  lumped  him, — bumped  his  seat  against  a 
black-jack  tree  about  twenty  bumps;  that's  all. 

Here  the  Old  Doctor  took  out  a  cigar,  which  he 
said  somebody  had  given  him,  and  lighting  it, 
puffed  away  with  much  relish. 

"Thanks,  Doctor/'  said  I.  "That's  a  pretty  good 
story  for  a  man  who  wasn't  going  to  stop  but  a 
minit,  and  wasn't  in  a  talking  humor.  Sit  longer  ? 
No?  Well,  do  come,  Doctor,  some  time  when  you 
are  in  a  talking  humor;  it  must  be  a  sight  to  see." 

The  Doctor  grunted  a  good-natured  grunt,  and 
said: 

I  cant  help  talkin';  I've  just  got  to  talk, — and 
you  fellers  are  about  the  only  ones  I  know  who  will 
listen  to  me  about  "war  times."  They  say, — "oh, 
g'wan,  Doctor,  we  live  in  the  present."  Well,  boys, 
I  reckon  I  am  an  anachronism, — a  back  number. 
So  long,  boys. 

86 


THE  BUSHWHACKERS  AFTER  THE  DOCTOR. 


THE  BUSHWHACKERS  AFTER  THE 
DOCTOR, 


A  FTEE  operating  all  night  and  otherwise  at- 
/— X  tending  to  the  wounded  at  Harrodsburg 
after  the  battle  of  Perryville,  said  the  Old 
Doctor,,  resuming  his  account  of  the  occurrences  in 
Kentucky,  about  daylight  I  mounted  my  horse  and 
lit  out  to  overtake  General  Hardee  and  his  party. 
I  had  not  had  anything  to  eat  in  nearly  forty-eight 
hours,  and  was  nearly  starved.  I  rode  rapidly.  It 
was  a  cold,  clear  morning,  late  in  October,  and  on 
the  beautiful  macadamized  road  my  swift  single- 
foot  racker  fairly  flew. 

I  had  gone  perhaps  six  miles  before  it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  might  be  on  the  wrong  road,— going 
the  wrong  way.  Presently  I  met  a  man  in  a  cart, 
and  I  asked: 

"Is  this  the  road  to  Camp  Dick  Kobinson?"  (I 
knew  that  was  the  general's  objective  point.) 

"My ! — >To !"  said  the  man.  "You  are  on  the 
Versailles  road,  and  going  right  t'wards  the  yan- 
kees;  they  are  coming  this  way." 

Here  was  a  predicament.  All  those  six  miles  to 
retrace,  and  the  danger  of  being  captured, — per 
haps  shot  for  a  spy, — being  alone,  and  away  from 
my  command.  But  I  turned  back  and  went  flying, 
I  tell  you. 

A  little  after  sun-up  I  came  in  sight  of  the  gen- 
87 


KECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  KEBEL  SURGEON. 

eral's  party, — gust  breaking  camp  and  about  to  be 
off.  They  had  bivouaced  inside  of  a  farmer's  stable 
lot  where  there  was  plenty  of  oats,  cawn  and  fod 
der  ;  something  my  horse  needed  mighty  bad.  The 
general  and  his  staff  and  escort  had  mounted  and 
were  off,  before  I  had  dismounted.  Dave,  the  black 
cook,  had  saved  me  a  mutton  chop  and  some  bread, 
and  the  coffee  pot  was  still  on  the  fire.  He  was 
busy  packing  the  camp  chest  and  loadin'  the  camp 
things  into  the  wagon.  I  put  my  horse  in  the  stable, 
after  giving  him  his  fill  at  the  trough,  and  shaking 
down  some  oats  and  cawn  for  him,  I  prepared  to 
take  a  nap  on  a  pile  of  straw  while  he  was  feedin'. 
I  had  devoured  my  breakfast  meantime. 

Before  I  had  gotten  a  good  hold  on  my  nap, 
"bang,"  "bang"  and  keep-on  "bang"-ing,  went  the 
guns  close  by,  and  bullets  whistled  through  the  barn 
like  hail.  It  was  our  rear  guard,  Gen.  Jo  Wheeler, 
keeping  back  the  enemy's  advance,  which  was 
crowdin'  us.  General  Hardee  had  a  closer  call  than 
he  knew,  being  already  detached  from  his  command 
and  goin'  it  alone.  My  horse,  feeding  at  the  trough, 
was  frightened,  and  jumped  around  considerable. 
I  hastily  put  on  the  saddle,  and  in  doing  so,  I 
dropped  this  ring  from  my  hand,  said  the  Old  Doc 
tor,  h^re  removing  from  his  finger  a  large,  well- 
worn  oriyx  seal  ring,  which  he  said  his  father  gave 
him  on  his  sixteenth  birthday,  and  which  he  prized 
very  highly. 

My  hands  were  cold,  and  the  ring,  always  a  little 
88 


THE  BUSHWHACKERS  AFTER  THE  DOCTOR. 

too  big  for  me.,  slipped  off  and  fell  in  the  straw.  I 
was  terribly  distressed  at  the  thought  of  leaving  it, 
yet  the  bullets  kept  warning  me  that  it  was  about 
lime  I  was  thinkin'  of  gittin'  further.  It  was  dark 
in  the  stable,  and  just  as  I  had  dispaired,  and  was 
about  to  mount,  a  movement  of  my  horse  threw  a 
gleam  of  light  on  the  ring.  I  grabbed  it,  with  a 
handful  of  the  straw,  and  at  a  single  leap  was  in 
the  saddle  and  out  of  that  like  an  arrow.  My  horse 
seemed  to  be  as  much  impressed  with  the  necessity 
of  getting  away  as  I  did.  A  volley  from  the  enemy 
followed  us, — they  were  now  in  sight,  and  our  men 
driven  back,  were  in  the  stable  yard.  We  fairly 
flew. 

A  mile  away  the  road  ran  along  at  the  base  of  a 
low  range  of  mountains  for  several  miles.  As  I 
went  flying  along, — ring  still  clasped  in  my  hand, 
—hadn't  had  time  to  put  it  on, — "biz,"  went  a 
rifle,  from  somewhere  on  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
and  the  bullet  cut  my  cap.  "Bing"  went  another 
rifle,  further  down,  ahead  of  me;  and  glancing  up 
I  saw  the  little  ring  of  smoke  made  by  the  old- 
fashioned  Kentucky  rifle,  the  old  muzzle  loader, 
with  which  I  was  so  familiar  in  my  boy  days  as  a 
squirrel  hunter, — the  most  accurate  firing  rifle  of 
them  all. 

I  realized  that  I  was  now  running  the  gauntlet 

of   bushwhackers;   stay-at-homes, — Union   men, — 

guerillas,  as  they  were  variously  designated.    I  just 

laid  flat  down  on  my  horse's  neck,  making  myself 

89 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

as  small  as  possible,  wishing  I  could  make  it  in 
visible, — and  giving  him  rein, — no  need  of  spur, — 
he  was  as  much  impressed  with  the  "gravity  of  the 
situation"  as  was  yours  truly, — we  went  like  an 
arrow.  I  have  no  idea  how  many  cracks  the}r  took 
at  me,  but  it  seemed  like  several  hundred  thousand. 
It  was  "whiz,"  as  a  bullet  would  go  by  me ;  "twang," 
as  another  would  ring  just  over  my  head;  "bang,'' 
"pop,"  "biz,"  for  several  miles. 

Presently  I  came  in  sight  of  some  of  our  party, — 
an  officer  of  the  staff  and  some  teamsters.  As  I 
rode  up, — they  were  dismounted  at  a  little  roadside 
"store,"  or  "grocery," — one  said : 

"Here  comes  the  Surgeon,  now." 

I  rode  up,  dismounted,  and  put  on  my  ring.  One 
said: 

"Doctor,  Bogle  is  shot." 

Bogle  was  the  wagon  master  of  our  headquarters. 
He  had  gone  into  a  field  near  by,  with  two  of  the 
men  and  a  wagon,  by  orders  of  the  captain  of  the 
cavalry  escort,  to  get  some  cawn.  They  were  en 
gaged  in  gathering  and  loading  the  wagon  with 
cawn,  and  while  so  engaged  Bogle  was  shot  thro' 
the  fleshy  part  of  the  shoulder  with  a  minnie  ball; 
while  the  horse  of  one  of  the  men  was  shot  thro' 
the  head  and  killed.  The  horse  was  killed  by  the 
bullet  from  a  Kentucky  rifle,  small  bore;  and  the 
third  shot  took  effect  in  the  horn  of  the  saddle  of 
the  other  man.  It  was  evident  that  three  persons 
had  fired,  and  that  each  of  the  party  was  a  target. 
90 


THE  BUSHWHACKERS  AFTER  THE  DOCTOR. 

The  captain  took  a  squad  of  men  and  went  up 
on  the  mountain  side  where  the  shots  came  from, 
and  in  a  little  cabin  they  found  an  old,  gray-bearded 
man,,  and  two  strapping  mountain  boys,  of  some 
eighteen  or  twenty.  They  were  bushwhackers,  and 
were,  by  the  rules  of  war,  outlawed.  The  men 
found,  secreted  in  the  cabin,  a  minnie  rifle  and  two 
small-bore  Kentucky  rifles,  the  calibres  of  all  of 
which  corresponded  with  the  bullet  holes  in  Bogle's 
shoulder  and  in  the  horse's  head,  and  in  the  saddle, 
and  all  three  rifles  were  still  warm,  showing  that 
they  had  just  been  discharged. 

That  was  proof  enough.  Without  judge  or  jury, 
or  the  form  of  a  trial  or  investigation,  the  old  man 
and  the  two  boys  were  taken  out — somewhere, — 
I  didn't  go;  I  was  busy  dressing  Bogle's  wound. 
But  one  of  the  men  told  me  that  the  old  man  never 
said  a  word,  but  manifested  the  stoicism  of  an  In 
dian. 

91 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


A  FROG  STORY. 


SAID  the  Old  Doctor  on  this  occasion,,  seating 
himself  with  his  usual  make-yourself-at- 
home  air : 

While  the  army  was  around  about  Tupelo,  Miss., 
after  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  and  General  Hardee's 
headquarters  were  at  Tupelo,  one  afternoon  in 
August,  after  the  day's  work  of  the  board  of  med 
ical  examiners  was  over,  I  remember  that  Drs. 
Yandell,  Pirn,  Heustis,  the  members  of  the  board, 
and  myself  (I  was  secretary,  you  remember  I  told 
you),  were  sitting  in  camp  talking  and  smoking. 
There  were  other  officers  of  the  staff  present,  also, 
as  all  of  the  officers'  quarters  were  near  together  in 
a  nice  grove ;  and  some  one  of  the  party,  I  have  for 
gotten  whom,  but  I  think  it  was  Major  Kirkland, 
one  of  the  engineer  officers,  stated  it  as  a  fact  that  a 
toad  would  swallow  coals  of  fire,  and  that  it  would 
not  hurt  him.  He  could  not  explain  it,  he  said,  as 
it  would  hardly  do  to  say  that  the  toad  "thought 
the  coal  was  a  "lightning  bug,"  or  that  he 
"thought"  at  all.  But  whatever  be  the  reason,  it 
was  a  fact,  he  said. 

The  party  laughed  at  him,  and  said  that  his 
credulity  was  of  a  robust  and  full-grown  sort ;  that 
he  was  easily  imposed  upon,  and  the  statement  was 
scoffed  at  and  ridiculed.  Dr.  Yandell  said : 

"Come,  Kirkland,  what  do  you  take  us  for? 
92 


A   FROG   STORY. 

That's  an  old  woman's  tale  that  I  have  heard  all 
my  life,  but  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  anybody 
would  believe  it." 

I  didn't  say  anything.  I  was  too  young,  and  too 
green,  and  altogether  too  inexperienced  to  take  a 
position  on  so  momentous  a  question  in  natural 
history.  I  had  read,  however,  a  good  deal  about 
toads,  and  frogs,  and  other  reptiles,  in  works  on 
physiology,  and  amongst  other  things  I  had  read, 
somewhere,  that  away  back  yonder  in  the  early  days 
of  Egyptian  civilization,  the  tenacity  with  which  ;* 
toad  clings  to  life  had  been  observed  and  recorded ; 
that  they  had  been  known  to  be  found  walled  up  in 
solid  masonry,  I  dont  know  how  many  centuries 
old;  and  I  remember  an  instance  being  cited  of  n 
toad  having  been  found  in  the  reign  of  Ram-Bunk- 
Shus  III,  or  Ram  Shaklin,  or  some  of  those  old 
Egyptian  rams,  that  had  been  buried  a  thousand 
years.  But  I  kept  mum. 

The  major  was  a  little  ruffled  at  the  merciless 
way  the  party  guyed  him;  so,  he  offered  to  prove 
it.  That  made  matters  worse.  They  laughed  more 
than  ever,  and  that  made  the  major  mad.  Luckily 
for  him  and  for  science,  and  for  the  truth  of  this 
story — 

"Come,  now,  Doctor;  you  are  not  going  to  tell 
us  that  yarn  for  straight,  I  hope,"  said  Dr.  Hud 
son,  Junior  Editor  of  the  Journal.  "What  do  you 
take  us  for?" 

93 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"Aint  I,  though?"  said  the  Old  Doctor.  "It's 
gospel  straight.,  laugh  if  you  will/' 

As  I  was  saying,  it  being  summer  time,  and  toads 
were  plentiful  in  that  country,  and  it  being  about 
sunset,  presently  the  major  spied  a  large  warty 
toad  hopping  about  as  if  he  were  out  for  a  lark;  a 
-comfortable  looking  old  fellow, — and  sending 
Henry,  the  colored  boy,  for  some  coals,  we  prepared 
for  a  circus, — a  demonstration, — a  failure  (of 
course),  a  fight  or  a  foot  race.  There  was  great 
interest  manifested.  A  crowd  assembled. 

The  major,  now  thoroughly  on  his  mettle,  kept 
saying,  "I'll  show  you/7 

He  went  cautiously  towards  the  toad,  and  with 
thumb  and  finger,  thumped  a  live  coal  right  plump 
in  the  frog's  path, — right  before  his  face.  Well, 
sirs, — that  old  toad  stopped,  straightened  up, — 
turned  his  head  on  one  side,  and  took  a  square  look 
at  the  coal.  It  must  have  been  just  what  he  was 
looking  for,  as  he  seemed  pleased  to  meet  it.  His 
eyes  shone  with  a  new  light,  and  he  made  a  grab 
at  the  coal,  and  swallowed  it  with  apparent  relish. 
Fact.  His  eyes  sparkled  still  more,  and  beyond 
•doubt,  he  registered  the  mental  reflection  that  that 
certainly  was  the  much  talked  of  "hot  stuff."  He 
set  out  to  look  for  more,  I  suppose ;  but  we  were  not 
done  with  him  yet. 

Dr.  Yandell  said  that  the  major  had  taken  an 
unfair  advantage  of  the  toad ;  that  he  was  evidently 
getting  old,  from  his  looks, — and  his  eye  sight  was 
94 


A    FROG   STORY. 

not  good;  that  "the  shades  of  eve  were  falling  fast," 
etc.,  and  that  he  would  -bet  the  toad  wouldn't  eat 
another.  The  major  repeated  the  trick  with  suc 
cess,  several  times,  till  every  one  was  satisfied  that 
the  toad  had  not  swallowed  the  fire  under  a  delu 
sion;  he  seemed  to  know  it  was  hot,  and  rather 
liked  it.  But  Dr.  Yandell  insisted  that  it  would 
kill  the  frog;  it  would  surely  produce  inflamma 
tion  of  the  stomach;  no  living  creature  could  take 
fire  into  its  stomach  and  live,  he  said. 

Well,  sirs;  the  major  said  he  would  make  good 
his  whole  story.  He  declared  that  the  frog  would 
be  none  the  worse  for  his  hot  supper.  He  had 
Henry  to  get  a  wooden  box  and  put  the  toad  in  it, 
and  shut  him  up  over  night.  As  I  live,  boys,  next 
morning  that  toad  was  not  only  alive  f  but  gave  un 
mistakable  evidences  of  being  hungry !  He  recog 
nized  the  major  and  winked  at  him;  and  when  a 
candle  bug,  one  of  those  yellow  fellows  with  a  hard 
shell, — was  thrown  in  the  box,  the  frog  snapped 
him  up  like  a  trout  would  a  minnow ;  fact. 
95 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


POKING  FUN  AT  THE  MEDICAL 
DIRECTOR. 


D  USING  the  siege  of  Atlanta,  said  our 
Genial  Friend  on  this  occasion,  looking 
radiant  and  happy  in  a  new  suit  of  linen, 
his  blue  eyes  twinkling  with  merriment,  when  At 
lanta  was  headquarters  of  Hood's  army,  the  Medi 
cal  Director  of  Hospitals,  the  venerable  Dr.  Sam 
uel  Hollingsworth  Stout,  now  living  at  Dallas, 
Texas,  formerly  of  Giles  county,  Tennessee,  issued 
orders  that  every  patient  at  the  hospital-post  of 
Covington,  Ga.,  forty  miles  below  Atlanta,  should 
be  sent  further  down  into  the  interior,  so  as  to  make 
room  at  that,  the  nearest  and  largest  hospital  post, 
for  the  wounded  expected  during  the  battle  which 
was  daily  expected,  but  which  hung  fire,  literally 
speaking,  for  many  weeks. 

There  were  at  Covington  some  six  large  hospi 
tals  ;  I  mean,  there  were  six  separate  hospital  organ 
izations  of  large  accommodating  capacity,  but  some 
of  them  occupied  four,  five  or  six  separate  build 
ings.  The  Hill  hospital  was  all  under  one  roof,  the 
only  one  that  was, — a  female  college  building;  but 
the  others  were  simply  beds  on  each  side  of  the 
room,  in  every  little  "store/7 — little  rough  plank 
one-story  buildings,  arranged  on  the  four  sides  of 
the  public  square,  in  which  stood  the  court  house; 
the  stereotyped  plan  of  little  towns  throughout  the 
96 


POKING    FUN    AT   THE    MEDICAL   DIRECTOR. 

South.  The  churches  were  also  filled  with  bunks. 
We  didn't  have  any  nice  little  enameled  bedsteads, 
or  iron-framed  cots; — ours  were  just  rough,,  un 
dressed  scantlings,  knocked  together;  and  our 
feather  beds  were  sacks  filled  with  hay;  pillows 
ditto. 

Well,  there  were  on  duty  at  that  post,  seventeen 
medical  officers,  I  amongst  the  rest.  When  the 
patients,  all  that  were  able  to  bear  transportation, 
were  sent  away,  and  the  battle  didn't  take  place, 
and  no  new  arrivals  came,  there  were  more  doctors 
at  the  post  than  patients,  and  we  literally  had  noth 
ing  to  do,  but  frolic,  ride  with  the  girls,  have  pic 
nics  and  fishing  parties.  But  Dr.  Stout  issued  an 
order  that  each  day  one  of  the  medical  officers 
should  be  detailed  by  the  post  surgeon,  of  whom, 
by-the-bye,  I'll  tell  you  a  good  story, — to  serve  as 
"Officer  of  the  Day."  From  7  a.  m.  one  day,  till 
7  a.  m.  the  next  day,  he  was  to  be  "on  duty" ;  that 
is,  he  was  to  wear  a  sash  and  sword,  and  stay  where 
he  could  be  called  at  night  if  wanted;  and  during 
the  day  he  was  to  strut  around  (that  wasn't  in  the 
order,  however),  and  do  nothing.'  There  just 
wasn't  anything  to  do,  I  tell  you ;  nevertheless,  the 
order  was  that  the  officer  of  the  day  should  visit 
and  inspect  each  ward  (most  of  them  were  empty; 
we  were  to  look  for  spooks,  I  reckon),  and  visit 
every  department;  kitchen,  laundry, — everywhere; 
inspect  the  food,  the  cooking,  etc.,  and  to  make  a 
written  report  every  morning  to  headquarters. 
97 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

All  this  red  tape  was  nonsense,  and  the  report 
soon  degenerated  into  a  mere  statement  that  every 
thing  was  0.  K., — a  perfunctory  performance  of 
about  four  lines. 

The  officer  of  the  day  was  the  only  one  who  would 
stay  in  town;  all  the  others  would  go  off  frolicking 
or  fishing.  By-and-bye  Dr.  Stout  wrote  down  to 
the  post  surgeon,  saying  that  the  medical  officers 
did  not  show  zeal  enough  in  their  duties,  and  that 
they  must  be  required  to  make  more  detailed  re 
ports.  I  made  one  of  twenty-four  pages  of  fools 
cap.,  which  was  all  words.  I  didn't  say  a  thing 
more  than  I  had  been  saying  in  four  lines,  but  said 
it  differently;  rang  all  the  changes  on  it. 

It  begun  by  saying : 

"The  English  language  is  happily  so  constructed 
that  a  great  many  words  of  diverse  origin  and  de 
rivation  can  be  so  brought  to  bear  as  to  convey  one 
and  the  same  idea;  and  consequently,  one  best 
versed  in  the  resources  of  the  language  will  natur 
ally  be  most  facile  in  its  use."  "Thus/'  I  said,  to 
give  an  illustration:  Instead  of  saying  as  Dr. 
Brown  did  yesterday,  that  the  bread  was  a  little 
scorched,  it  might  be  expressed  thus : 

"In  consequence  of  inattention,  ignorance,  in 
competence,  temporary  absence  or  preoccupation  of 
the  colored  divinity  who  presides  over  the  culinary 
establishment  of  Ward  3, — vulgarly  called  the 
'cook,'  a  part  of  the  nutriment,  the  subsistence,  the 
'grub,' — a  very  essential  part,  which  was  that  day 
98 


POKING   FUN   AT   THE   MEDICAL   DIRECTOR. 

being  prepared  and  intended  for  the  alimentation 
and  sustenance  of  the  unfortunate  beings  who,,  by 
accident,  exposure  or  fate  were  at  that  time  sick 
or  wounded  and  lying  prone  on  a  roughly  extem 
porized  bunk  in  a  building  near  by,  by  courtesy 
called  a  hospital, — sick,  wounded  or  else  convales 
cent,  and  dependent  on  others,  ourselves,  to  wit,  and 
deprived,  doubtless  much  to  their  sorrow  and  re 
gret,  of  the  privilege  of  being  at  the  front  in  the 
trenches  or  on  the  line  of  battle,  battling  for  their 
country ;  to  wit,  the  bread, — being  too  long  exposed 
to  the  oxidizing  influence  of  the  oven,  had  been 
somewhat  scorched,  burnt,  or  otherwise  injured, 
being  thereby  rendered  unwholesome  and  unfit  for 
the  purposes  for  which  it  was  intended;  towit, — 
the  nourishment  of  the  said  sick,  wounded  or  con 
valescent  soldiers." 

Or  the  fact  that  the  bread  was  burnt,  I  said, 
"might  be  thus  expressed,  if  one  were  very  scrupu 
lous  as  to  the  elegance  of  his  diction,  and  wished  to 
be  exact,  and  not  in  the  least  to  mislead  or  dis 
appoint  the  Honorable  Medical  Director  who,  we 
knew,  in  his  zeal,  was  famishing  for  tidings  from 
the  half  dozen  patients  and  the  seventeen  doctors 
at  that  post,  saying  nothing  whatever  as  to  the 
condition  of  the  bunks  and  their  sole  tenants,  the 
Lectularius  family,"  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth.  I 
strung  her  out  twenty-four  pages,  and  didn't  say 
anything  except  that  the  bread  was  burnt  in  cook 
ing. 

99 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Dr.  Warmuth  (now  living  at  Smyrna,  Tenn.), 
came  into  the  post  surgeon's  office  one  morning 
where  all  the  officers  assembled  once  a  day  at  least, 
to  make  his  report  as  officer  of  the  day  for  the  pre 
ceding  twenty-four  hours.  Dr.  Macdonald,  an  old 
U.  S.  army  %  surgeon,  and  a  strict  disciplinarian, 
was  the  post  surgeon ;  a  good  one  on  him  presently. 
Dr.  Warmuth  wrote  out  his  report  and  handed  it  to 
Dr.  Macdonald.  He  said  there  was  nothing  to  re 
port,  as  usual,  except  that  a  pig  had  fallen  into  the 
sink  in  the  rear  of  Ward  3,  and  he  respectfully  sug 
gested  that  Surgeon  -  — ,  who  would  now 
come  on  as  officer  of  the  day,  be  requested  to  get 
him  out. 

Of  course  they  had  the  laugh  on  me,  and  rigged 
me  no  little  about  the  pig. 

I  put  on  my  uniform, — coat  buttoned  up  to  the 
chin  and  devilish  uncomfortable,  I  tell  you;  sum 
mer  time;  fly  time, — fishing  time,  and  the  trout 
were  striking  like  all-possessed.  I  put  on  my  sword 
and  sash  and  went  on  duty  as  "Officer  of  the  Day ;" 
all  the  other  fellers  went  fishing,  and  took  all  the 
ladies,  girls  and  wives,  with  them,  leaving  me,  I  do 
believe,  the  sole  occupant  of  the  town,  outside  of 
the  hospital  people;  big  fish  fry  and  dance  at  the 
mill.  Just  my  luck,  I  said. 

I  never  once  thought  of  the  pig ;  there  was  no 
pig  in  it,  of  course ;  Dr.  Warmuth  was  only  poking 
fun  at  me  and  the  medical  director. 

Next  morning  when  we  were  all  assembled  in  the 
100 


POKING    FUN   AT   THE    MEDICAL    D 

post  surgeon's  office,  and  Dr.  Dick  Taylor  was 
telling  how  big  that  fellow  was  that  broke  his  hook 
and  he  didn't  catch,,  and  making  me  green  with 
envy,,  I  was  reminded  that  my  report  was  then  due, 
and  I  thought  for  the  first  time  of  that  pig.  I  took 
a  piece  of  paper  and  a  pen,  and  knocked  off  this : 
(here  the  Old  Doctor  handed  Dr.  Hudson  a  news 
paper  clipping)  without  a  break,  and  gave  it  to 
Dr.  Macdonald: 

"Surgeon  Warmuth  in  reporting  mentioned  that 
a  pig  in  sporting  on  the  brink  of  the  sink,  attracted 
by  the  od'rous  vapors  began  to  cut  up  divers  capers, 
and  essayed  at  last  to  take  a  peep  into  the  depths 
of  the  nasty  deep ;  but  owing  to  a  little  dizziness  he 
got  his  pig-ship  into  business.  I  heard  a  squealing, 
which,  appealing  to  every  feeling  of  my  nature,  I 
quickly  ran  to  get  a  man  to  lend  a  hand  to  help  the 
porcine  creature.  The  pig,  in  the  meantime,  be 
came  apprehensive  that  the  stink  of  the  sink  (which 
was  very  offensive),  would  produce  a  fit  of  indi 
gestion,  revolved  in  his  mind  the  knotty  question, 
'To  be,  or  not  to  be.'  He  soon  decided  that  if  taken 
by  our  hands  we'd  save  his  bacon  (not  the  Friar, 
but  the  fried),  then  another  effort  tried.  Striving 
then  with  might  and  main,  he  landed  on  the  land 
again,  and  scampered  off  with  caper  fine,  a  happier 
and  wiser  swine." 

Dr.  Macdonald  began  to  read: 

"Wha—  what's  this?"  he  said;  "--pig  in  sport 
ing  on  the  brink  of  the  sink-  -         -  ?" 
101 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"That's  my  report  as  officer  of  the  day,  sir/'  I 
said. 

"Kespectfully  forwarded  to  the  medical  director, 
not  approved/'  he  wrote  on  the  back  of  it. 

Dr.  Stout  returned  it  "not  approved;"  and  added 
"this  dignified  officer  is  expected  to  make  a  more 
dignified  report." 

But  the  young  fellows  in  Stout's  office  "approved" 
of  it,  and  they  made  copies  of  it,  and  it  got  into 
the  Atlanta  Constitution.  There  is  where  I  got 
this;  my  wife  found  it  with  my  old  war  things 
lately. 


ir  §r  sr  ir  ir  ir 

M  J*  J*  Jfi  .# 


DR.  DICK  TAYLOR,  OF  MEMPHIS. 


AMONG  the  medical  officers  at  Covington  at 
the  time  I  speak  of,  said  the  Old  Doctor, 
was  Dr.  Dick  Taylor,  of  Memphis.     He 
was  a  rattler ; — full  of  fun  as  a  kitten,  and  as  chuck 
full  of  fight  as  a  buzz-saw.    He  is  living  yet,  I  be 
lieve.     He  was  an  impetuous,  hot-headed  little  fel 
low,  but  withal  a  genial  and  most  companionable 
one.     He  had  his  wife  with  him,  and  they  had  a 
little   boy   about   three   years    old,    named    "Jesse 
Tate."     Mrs.   Taylor,  like  Mrs.   Boffins  in  "Our 
Mutual  Friend,"  was  a  "high-flyer  at  fashion/1 — a 
102 


DE.  DICK   TAYLOR,  OF   MEMPHIS. 

society  lady.  She  was  very  proud  of  her  little  boy, 
and  took  great  pains  to  train  him  in  the  way  he 
should  go,  so  that  in  the  sweet  bye-and-bye,  he 
would  not  depart  therefrom,  but  follow  in  the  foot 
steps  of  his  pa  (nit).  She  had  taught  him  the 
name  of  the  President  of  these  United  States  (tem 
porarily,  then,  dis-"United"),  the  name  of  the 
President  of  the  Confederate  States,  the  Queen  of 
England,  and  a  whole  lot  of  other  information  that 
it  is  thought  all  children  should  possess,  and  her 
great  pride  was  to  have  the  little  fellow  show  off 
before  company. 

"Jesse  Tate,"  his  mother  would  say,  "Who  is 
President  of  the  Confederate  States?" 

"Jeff  Davis,"  the  little  chap  would  say. 

"Who  is  Queen  of  England?" 

"Victoria,"  Jesse  would  answer  stoutly,  and  so 
on ;  she  would  put  him  through  his  paces  before  all 
callers. 

Dr.  Dick  got  tired  of  this  nonsense,  and  he  pur 
posely  confused  the  boy  for  a  joke. 

"Jesse  Tate,"  he  would  say,  "Who  is  President 
of  the  United  States  ?" 

"Abraham  - 

"Tut,  tut,"  his  daddy  would  say.  "Queen  Victo 
ria  is  President  of  the  United  States."  "Now, 
who  is  Queen  of  England? 

"Vic .» 

"Tut-tut,"   his   father   would   say,   "You   mean 
Jeff  Davis,"  and  so  on,  until  he  got  the  little  fellow 
103 


KECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

so  confused  that  he  didn't  know  which  from 
Mother. 

One  day  some  fashionable  ladies  called,  and  of 
course  Jesse  Tate  had  to  go  through  his  perform 
ances. 

"Jesse  Tate,"  his  mother  said,  "tell  Mrs.  Hen 
derson,,  like  a  good  little  boy,  who  is  President  of 
the  United  States." 

"Queen  Vic  Davis,"  said  Jesse  stoutly. 

"Oh,  no,  my  son;  you  forgot;  Abraham  Lincoln 
is  the  President  of  the  United  States." 

"Abraham  Lincoln,"  said  the  child. 

"Now  tell  Mrs.  Henderson;  who  is  the  Queen  of 
England?" 

"Jeff  Toria,"  said  Jesse  Tate. 

Poor  Mrs.  Taylor  was  mortified  beyond  expres 
sion.  She  said: 

"That's  some  of  Dr.  Taylor's  work;  he's  always 

spoiling  the  child." 

*         *         *         * 

One  morning  when  we  had  assembled  in  Dr. 
Macdonald's  office  as  usual,  Dr.  Macdonald  who, 
you  remember,  had  been  a  U.  S.  army  officer,  and 
was  a  great  stickler  for  etiquette,  said  to  Dr.  Tay 
lor : 

"Doctor  Taylor,  I  am  much  pained  and  surprised 
to  hear  that  you  so  far  forgot  yourself  yesterday, 
as  I  understand,  as  to  curse  one  of  the  men, — a 
private.  Kennedy,  the  ward  master,  complained 
to  me  yesterday  that  you  had  cursed  him.  You 
"  104 


DR.   DICK   TAYLOR,   OF   MEMPHIS. 

ought  to  remember,  Doctor,  that  in  this  war  we  are 
engaged  in  a  cause  almost  holy ;  we  are  all  brothers ; 
our  soldiers  are  citizens, — not  hirelings, — and  at 
home,  for  all  you  may  know,  Kennedy's  social  posi 
tion  may  be  as  good  as  yours.  It  is  only  the  acci 
dent  of  war  that  makes  you  an  officer  and  him  a 
private.  Reverse  the  situation;  and  suppose  that 
you  were  a  private ;  how  would  you  like  for  any  one 
to  curse  you,  just  because  he  was  an  officer?  You 
should  treat  the  private  soldiers  with  all  kindness 
and  consideration,  because  of  their  defenceless  posi 
tion  and  the  hardships — 

Just  then  Kennedy  burst  in  at  the  door,  which 
had  been  closed,  and  in  great  excitement,  ex 
claimed  : 

"Doctor  Macdonald,  the  house  is  on  fire  \" 

Macdonald,  furious  with  rage  and  anger,  had 
already,  before  Kennedy  had  gotten  the  words  out 
of  his  mouth,  jumped  up,  and  had  seized  a  chair 
and  was  in  the  act  of  knocking  Kennedy  into  king 
dom-come,  saying: 

"You  d  —  m'd  scoundrel ! — how  dare  you  enter 
my  office  without  knocking?" 

"But,  Doctor,  the  house  is  on  fire !"  said  poor 
Kennedy. 

"I  dont  care  if  it  is,"  said  Macdonald;  "I'll 
teach  you  to  knock  at  my  door  when  you  have  any 
thing  to  communicate  to  me  I" 

We   pacified   him   bye-and-bye.      Kennedy    had 
gone,  crestfallen  and  much  hurt. 
105 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"Doctor  Macdonald,"  said  Dick  Taylor,  "I  am 
pained  and  surprised  to  see  that  you  would  so  far 
forget  yourself  as  to  curse  a  private.  You  should 
remember.,  Doctor,,  that  we  are  engaged  in  a  holy 
cause,  and  that  we  are  all  brothers.,  and  — 

"Oh,  you  be  hanged/'  said  Macdonald. 
*         *         *         * 

I  had  rooms  in  the  house  occupied  by  Dr.  Taylor 
and  his  wife  and  Jesse  Tate.  It  was  a  little  cottage 
of  four  rooms  and  a  hall  through  the  center.  It 
was  Dr.  Taylor's  invariable  custom  to  take  a  nap 
after  dinner.  It  was  summer.  He  would  spread  a 
pallet  on  the  floor  in  the  hallway,  and  would  snooze 
an  hour  or  so  every  afternoon. 

I  used  to  sit  on  the  little  gallery,  or  "porch/'  as 
they  called  it  in  Georgia,  and  read,  usually,  mean 
time.  I  had  brought  with  me  from  Mississippi  one 
of  my  men,  a  slave,  a  big  black  fellow  named  Jim. 
Jim  was  a  kind  of  Jack-at-all-trades.  I  had  given 
him  permission  to  open  a  barber  shop  on  his  own 
account  on  the  corner  near  our  house.  Of  course 
he  went  by  my  name,  and  he  had  up  a  little  sign, 
"Barber  Shop/'  and  his  name  underneath. 

One  afternoon  the  shop  was  closed,  I  suppose,  for 
a  big  strapping  fellow,  a  "sick  soldier," — a  "hospi 
tal  rat"  as  the  chronic  stayers  were  called, — a  great 
gawky  six-footer, — had  been  there  to  get  shaved,  I 
suppose,  and  not  finding  Jim,  made  inquiry  for 
him,  and  had  been  directed  to  me,  his  owner,  for 
information  as  to  his  whereabouts,  as  Jim  went  by 
106 


DR.   DICK    TAYLOR,  OF    MEMPHIS. 

my  name.  So,  this  "grim,  gaunt  and  ungainly" 
specimen  came  up  to  the  little  porch  where  I  was 
sitting,  reading,  and  with  an  attempt  at  a  salute 
that  looked  more  like  grabbing  at  a  fly  than  a 
salute,  said : 

"Is  you  the  man  what  keeps  the  barber  shop  ?" 

The  spirit  of  mischief,  always  on  me,  prompted 
me  to  say,  very  kindly : 

'"No ;  there  he  is,  lying  down  in  the  hall.  He  told 
me  to  call  him  if  anybody  came;  walk  in." 

So,  the  big  fellow  went  in,  and  waked  Taylor  up. 
I  dodged  behind  the  corner  of  the  house,  for  I  knew 
what  was  coming. 

Out  came  the  fellow,  at  double-quick,  and  Taylor 
right  at  his  heels,  smashing  Mrs.  Taylor's  little 
rocking  chair  over  his  head  and  back,  and  at  every 
lick  making  the  atmosphere  purple  with  remarks 
that  wont  do  to  print. 

"The  confounded  scoundrel !"  said  Taylor,  when 
he  was  able  to  speak;  "To  have  the  impudence  to 
wake  me  up,  and,  damn  him,  to  ask  if  I  was  the 
man  that  keeps  the  barber  shop ! — your  nigger !" 
107 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


PRESUMPTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


MY  WIFE  had  a  pretty,  bright  little  darkey 
named  "Flora."  She  was  about  ten 
years  old,,  and  while  not  old  enough  or 
trustworthy  enough  for  nurse  for  the  baby,  she  was 
an  excellent  hand  to  amuse  him,  and  to  keep  him 
from  swallowing  the  tack  hammer,  for  instance. 
She  was  an  admirable  mimic,  and,  like  many  of  her 
race,  was  a  born  musician.  I  remember  she  got 
hold  of  a  harmonicon,  somewhere,  one  of  those  lit 
tle  cheap  toy  things  that  now  sell  for  a  dime,  and 
it  is  astonishing  the  amount  of  "harmony"  she 
could  get  out  of  it. 

My  wife  undertook  to  teach  Flora  to  read.  She 
got  one  of  those  little  blue-back  primers,  in  which 
there  is  a  picture  to  illustrate  the  simple  words. 
Like  Smike  in  "Nicholas  Nickelby,"  whom  old 
Squeers,  the  Yorktown  schoolmaster  made  spell 
"horse/'  and  then  go  and  curry  his  horse  and  feed 
him,  so  as  to  impress  it  upon  the  mind;  there  was 
"a-x,  ax,"  and  a  picture  of  an  ax;  "o-x,  ox,"  and 
a  picture  of  an  ox,  and  so  on.  Flora  learned  very 
rapidly  to  spell  "a-x,  ax,"  and  "o-x,  ox,"  and  "j-u-g 
jug,"  etc.,  and  could  rattle  it  off  nicely. 

One  day  my  wife,  suspecting  that  Flora  was  get 
ting  along  too  fast, — that  she  was  not  learning  to 
connect  the  sound  of  the  letters  with  the  object, 
after  putting  her  through  all  of  the  "a-x,  ax,"  and 
108 


A   CLOSE    CALL. 

"b-o-x,  box,"  exercise.,  put  her  thumb  over  the  little 
picture  of  the  ox,  and  said : 

"Flora,  what  is  that?" 

"0-x,  ox,"  said  Flora. 

"How  did  you  know  that  was  co-x,  ox?7  "  said  my 
wife. 

"I  see'd  his  tail,"  said  Flora,  with  a  shame-faced 


A  CLOSE  CALL— A  BAD  STAND  AND  A 
WORSE  RUN. 


I'VE  BEEN  tellin7  you  fellers  about  Covington 
a  good  deal,  said  the  Fat  Philosopher  at  next 
visit, — but  I  believe  I  didnt  tell  you  about  the 
time  I  was  killed,  did  I?    No? 

Well,  it  was  while  there  were  so  few  patients 
there  and  so  many  doctors, — that  General  Stead- 
man,  or  Stoneman,  I  dont  recollect  which, — dont 
make  much  difference, — raided  the  place.  We 
thought  maybe  he  had  heard  of  the  state  of  affairs 
there,  and  being  short  on  real  good  doctors  sought 
this  opportunity  to  replenish. 

Now,    surgeons, — non-combatants,    are    usually 
not  taken  prisoners;  but  on  this  occasion  we  feared 
109 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

that  finding  so  many  of  us,  and  with  nothing  to 
do,  he'd  relieve  the  Southern  Confederacy  of  the 
tax  of  feedin'  us.  At  any  rate,  we  feared  that  the 
yanks  might  take  along  some  of  us,  at  least,  if  only 
as  specimens,  leaving  only  enough  to  care  for  the 
few  remaining  sick  and  wounded  at  that  post. 

Now,  like  the  parable  in  the  Bible  about  all  those 
fellers  who  were  invited  to  a  party  and  didn't  want 
to  go,  every  feller  had  some  excuse.  For  my  part, 
like  also  one  of  the  aforesaid,  I  had  "married  a 
wife,"  and  we  had  a  baby,  and  it  would  have  been 
exceedingly  inconvenient,  to  say  the  least,  for  me 
to  make  a  trip  North,  even  at  the  invitation  of  so 
distinguished  a  gentleman  as  General  Whateverhis- 
namewas,  without  the  wife  and  baby,  especially.  I 
particularly  didn't  relish  the  idea  of  visiting  John 
son's  Island  at  that  season  of  the  year,  however 
attractive  that  place  might  be  thought  by  others  to 
be ;  so,  when  the  news  of  the  approach  of  the  raid 
ers  was  received,  every  man  at  the  post  lit  out  for 
the  timber  to  hide  and  wait  till  the  clouds  rolled 
by.  We  never  dreamed  that  they  would  want  us  so 
bad  as  to  pursue  us.  It  never  occurred  to  any  of 
us  that  the  Federal  army  might  be  so  short  on  doc 
tors  as  to  have  these  fellers  scour  the  woods  for  a 
lot  thought  to  be  particularly  choice.  But  they  did. 

Lesassieur  and  I   (Lesassieur  of  New  Orleans; 

he  was  bookkeeper  at  the  hospital),  we  hid  in  a 

thicket,  down  in  a  little  creek  bottom  about  two 

miles  from  town,  and  kept  as  still  as  mice.    By-and- 

110 


A   CLOSE    CALL. 

bye  we  heard  the  yanks  talking,  and  heard  the  rat 
tle  of  their  accoutrements  and  the  tramp  of  their 
horses  hoofs  up  on  the  hill  to  our  left,  and  quite 
near  us.  It  is  likely,  if  we  had  staid  still  they 
would  have  passed  us  unobserved;  but  Lesassieur, 
like  a  fool,  jumped  up  and  ran.  And  I,  like  an 
other  fool,  did  the  same. 

There  was  a  dense  woods,  the  river  bottom  or 
swamp,  about  half  a  mile  off,  and  that  was  our  des 
tination.  We  knew  if  we  could  reach  that  cover, 
pursuit  would  be  impossible  and  would  cease.  But 
we  had  to  cross  an  "old  field"  of  broom  sage  before 
getting  to  it,  and  it  was  separated  from  the  old 
field  by  a  ten-rail  fence.  Across  the  field  Lesassi- 
eur  went  like  a  scared  rabbit,  and  cleared  the  fence 
at  a  single  bound,  as  easily  as  a  buck  could  have 
done  it. 

Xow,  as  a  jumpist  I  was  never  regarded  by  my 
many  admiring  friends  with  that  degree  of  enthu 
siasm  with  which  they  regarded  my  many  other 
accomplishments;  and  as  for  running, — well, — I 
never  practiced,  you  know.  I  followed  as  fast  as 
I  could,  however,  but  not  near  fast  enough  to  keep 
even  in  speaking  distance  of  Lesassieur.  He  was 
scared, — that's  what  ailed  him.  I  thought,  how 
ever,  that  a  bad  run  was  better  than  a  bad  stand, 
so  I  put  in  the  best  licks  I  knew  how.  Of  course 
I  wasn't  scared; — oh^  no.  I  just  desired  to  advise 
Lesassieur  to  hurry  up.  He  had  an  old  mother,  hf* 
111 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

said,   who  would  grieve  for  him  if  he  came  up 
missin'. 

I  hadn't  gotten  half  way  across  this  field  when 
the  yankees  hove  in  sight.  They  were  in  hot  pur 
suit, — seven  of  them,  well  mounted.  They  began, 
to  fire  at  me  about  three  hundred  yards  off,  and 
came  with  a  whoop.  They  yelled  like  Comanche 
Indians.  They  were  elated,  I  dont  doubt,  at  the 
prospect  of  capturing  an  unusually  fine  specimen, 
— a  young  one. 

They  were  getting  uncomfortably  near,  and 
"bang,"  "zip,"  "bang"  went  the  guns,  the  bullets 
hitting  the  ground  all  around  me.  The  situation 
was  getting  serious.  Lordy, — everything  mean  that 
I  had  ever  done  in  my  life  went  through  my  mind 
like  a  panorama  in  brilliant  colors.  I  recalled  with 
out  an  effort  all  those  things  that  I  had  done  which 
I  hadn't  orter  done,  and  similarly  all  those  things 
that  I  had  left  undone,  etcetera,  and  I  felt  that 
there  was  "no  health  in  me"  (see  Sunday  School 
books) ;  and  it  did  look  as  if  very  soon  there  would 
be  no  breath  in  me.  At  least  that  wasn't  a  very 
healthy  place  for  doctors  about  then.  Something 
had  to  be  "did,"  and  that  pretty  quick,  or  I'd  be  a 
cold  corpus,  and  my  wife  a  widow,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  great  loss  to  science  and  the  Confederate  army. 

I  had  in  my  hand  a  small  mahogany  watch  box, 

in  which  was  my  wife's  watch,  her  diamond  ring, 

and  some  eighty  dollars  in  gold  coin.     (Lordy,  if 

those  yanks  had  known  it.)     My  own  fine  watch  I 

112 


A    CLOSE    CALL. 

had  in  my  pocket,  but  no  sign  of  it  was  visible,  you 
bet.  I  had  prudence  enough  to  not  tempt  those 
young  men;  it  would  have  been  wrong.  Presently 
a  bullet  struck  that  box  and  shattered  it,  scattering 
the  contents  "promiscuous." 

I  saw  that  I  would  be  killed  before  I  could  reach 
the  fence,  and  you  know  a  feller  thinks  mighty  fast 
when  death  is  looking  him  in  the  face  at  short 
range.  Stratagem  came  to  my  mind.  I  stopped, 
faced  my  pursuers,  who,  by  that  time  were  coming 
on  the  run,  one  feller  checking  up  now  and  then 
to  take  a  crack  at  me, — and  throwing  up  my  hands, 
waved  my  handkerchief  in  token  of  surrender.  But, 
confound  them,  their  early  education  in  the  ethics 
of  war  had  evidently  been  neglected;  they  didn't 
know  what  a  flag  of  truce  was  (it  was  a  clean 
handkerchief,  or  I  would  not  have  much  blamed 
them  for  not  recognizing  it).  "Zip,"  "zip"  went 
the  bullets  still,  cutting  pretty  close,  but  missing 
me.  At  the  pop  of  the  next  shot,  I  threw  up  both 
hands,  and  fell  heavily  forward, — dead, — they 
thought. 

"Oh,  I  fetched  him  that  time,"  said  one. 

In  an  instant  they  were  all  around  me.  I  laid 
still.  One  fellow  was  drunk,  and  when  he  found  I 
was  not  dead  he  pointed  his  gun  at  me  and  fired. 
He  would  have  unquestionably  finished  me  but  for 
a  boy,  the  youngest  of  the  party,  who  knocked  the 
gun  up  just  in  time  to  save  me. 

"Oh?  dont  shoot  a  wounded  prisoner,"  said  he. 
113 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"Are  you  much  hurt  ?"  asked  one  of  them. 

"No/'  I  said, — very  much  at  a  loss  how  to  round 
it  off,  fearing  that  when  they  found  I  had  tricked 
them  they  would  kill  me.  "I  am  not  hit  at  all; 
but  I  saw  I  would  be  killed,  so  I  offered  to  surren 
der,  but  you  kept  shooting,  and  that  was  the  only 
way  I  could  think  of  to  make  you  stop ;  I  surrender 
to  this  man/'  said  I,  pointing  to  the  boy. 

I  got  up  on  the  boy's  horse  behind  him,  and  slip 
ped  a  $5  gold  piece  in  his  hand  (one  I  had  picked 
up  of  my  scattered  coin).  The  drunken  man  still 
wanted  to  shoot  me.  The  boy  gave  me  a  pull  at  his 
canteen,  for  I  was  nearly  famished  for  water.  I 
was  "spittin'  cotton/'  Do  you  fellers  know  what 
that  is?  The  boy  said: 

"I'll  protect  you  and  take  you  to  the  general." 

The  general,  as  soon  as  he  saw  that  I  was  a  sur 
geon,  released  me  and  said : 

"What  did  you  run  for?  You  might  have  been 
killed;  we  dont  take  medical  officers  prisoner." 

You  bet  I  had  a  big  attack  of  glad.  I  went  home 
to  my  wife  and  baby  with  a  glad  heart.  Dinner 
was  about  ready ;  we  had  a  good  dinner,  too,  and  I 
made  that  yankee  cavalry  boy  sit  right  down  to  the 
table  with  us,  and  we  just  treated  him  like  a 
brother.  We  stuffed  his  haversack  with  pies  and 
apples,  and  gave  him  a  bottle  of  home-made  scup- 
pernong  wine,  ten  years  old,  a  product  for  which 
the  Georgia  people  are  famous.  I  wish  I  knew  what 
114 


SMUGGLES   CONTRABAND   SUPPLIES. 

became  of  that  boy.     I  kept  his  name  and  home 
address  a  long  time,  but  lost  it,  somehow. 

Find  my  stuff?  Well,  yes,  —  most  of  it.  Next 
day  I  went  to  the  spot.  (I  thought  at  one  time  of 
erecting  a  monument  to  me  on  the  spot  where  I  fell 
a  martyr  to  the  Lost  Cause,  —  where  the  yankees 
killed  me,  —  as  they  thought.)  I  hunted  around 
in  the  broom  sage  where  I  fell,  and  was  lucky 
enough  to  find  most  of  the  contents  of  my  box; 
I've  forgotten  now,  how  much  of  it  was  missin'. 


THE  DOCTOR  SMUGGLES  CONTRA 
BAND  SUPPLIES. 


AFTER  the   storm   was   over,  the   post   was 
broken  up, — we  were  then  in  the  enemy's 
lines, — and  I  was  left  there   (at  Coving- 
ton),  in  charge  of  a  lot  of  bad  cases  that  couldn't 
be  moved.     Old  man  Giles,  who  had  a  little  drug 
store,  which,  like  everything  else,  was  rifled,  gutted, 
—robbed,  came  to  me  and  said : 

"Doctor,   the  yankees   in  plundering  my  store 

overlooked  twenty  bottles  of  chloroform.    It  was  in 

the  bottom  of  a  box,  with  a  false  bottom  over  it. 

They  took  everything  else  that  was  in  the  box,  and 

115 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

thought  they  had  gotten  to  the  bottom,  when  they 
hadn't.  Let  me  sell  it  to  you  for  the  Southern 
Confederacy." 

"What  will  you  take  for  it,  Mr.  Giles?"  I  said. 
"You  know  I  have  nothing  but  Confederate 
money." 

"That's  good  enough  for  me/'  said  the  loyal  old 
fellow.  "I  reckon  it's  worth  fifteen  dollars  a  bottle, 
aint  it?  And  as  the  bottles  are  only  about  two- 
thirds  full,  we'll  call  the  twenty  bottles  fifteen/' 
(The  fact  is,  there  was  a  pound  of  chloroform  in 
each  bottle ;  but  I  didn't  know  it  till  I  went  to  dis 
pose  of  it  in  Augusta  later.)  So,  I  paid  him  for 
fifteen  bottles  at  $15  a  bottle,  $225  Confed. 

I  took  my  twenty  bottles  of  chlorofom  to  my 
room,  and  by  filling  each  one  reduced  them  to 
fifteen,  thus  saving  space  in  packing.  I  hid  them 
securely  in  the  bottom  of  a  small  trunk,  and  taking 
the  hint  from  Mr.  Giles'  experience,  I  put  a  bot 
tom  over  them,  a  false  bottom,  for,  being  in  the 
enemy's  lines,  I  didn't  know,  if  overhauled  by  ;i 
picket  at  any  time  on  my  way  to  Augusta,  when  1 
should  be  ready  to  go,  but  that  the  precious  chloro 
form  would  be  taken  from  me,  which  it  surely 
would  have  been;  it  was  contraband,  and  much 
needed  by  our  people.  Well,  sirs,  I  finally  got  away 
the  last  of  my  sick  and  wounded,  all  who  didn't  die, 
poor  fellows,  and  with  my  wife  and  young  baby 
and  my  cook  and  nurse,  I  went  to  the  nearest  place 
where  the  railroad  was  not  torn  up,  and  took  a 
116 


SMUGGLES   CONTRABAND   SUPPLIES. 

train  for  Augusta,  which  place  we  reached  without 
accident  or  incident  worth  mentioning. 

The  very  first  person  I  met  whom  I  knew  was 
Peterson,  of  the  medical  purveyor's  department, 
out  looking  for — chloroform !  Said  he : 

"I'm  on  track  of  a  lot  of  chloroform  that  I  w-as 
told  a  blockade  runner  has  brought  in.  I  want  to 
see  what  else  she  has." 

I  said :   "What  are  you  paying  for  chloroform  ?" 

"We  need  it  dreadfully,  and  Dr.  Young  sent  me 
out  to  look  for  some,  and  if  I  came  across  any,  to 
get,  it.,  at  whatever  price,"  said  Peterson. 

"Perhaps  I  can  put  you  onto  a  lot,  say,  fifteen 
or  twenty  pounds; — what  shall  I  say  to  the  party 
it  is  worth  ?"  I  said. 

"That  aint  the  question;  can  I  get  it?"  insisted 
Peterson  excitedly. 

"I'll  see  the  party  by  4  p.  m.  and  let  you  know ; 
but  a  price  will  have  to  be  fixed,  some  time,"  said  I. 

"Offer  her"  (the  most  fearless  and  successful 
smugglers  thro'  the  lines  were  "she's"),  "offer  her 
two  hundred  dollars  a  pound,"  said  Peterson,  get 
ting  more  excited,  "and  if  she  says  that  is  not 
enough^  make  it  three  hundred.  Anything  to  get 
the  chloroform." 

I  then  told  him  that  I  had  fifteen  bottles,  and 
stated  that  I  had  bought  it  in  twenty  bottles,  but 
that  they  were  not  full,  and  that  I  had  consolidated 
it  to  reduce  bulk.  I  told  him  that  I  had  brought 
it  purposely  to  turn  over  to  the  Confederate  author- 
117 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

ities,  knowing  how  much  it  was  needed,  and  that  I 
would  not  accept  any  such  price  for  it  as  he  was 
recklessly  offering;  that  I  had  only  paid  $15  per 
bottle,  and  called  it  fifteen  bottles,  and  that  the  gov 
ernment  should  have  it  for  what  it  cost  me. 

He  wouldn't  hear  to  the  proposition. 

"Why/7  said  he,  "I  would  have  to  pay  anybody 
else  a  big  price  for  it,  and  would  be  glad  to  get  it. 
You  had  all  the  trouble  and  risk  of  smuggling  it 
in,  and  if  you  had  been  caught  you  would  have  been 
sent  to  prison  at  Johnson's  Island,  or  elsewhere. 
and  I  aint  a  going  to  rob  you  in  any  such  way." 

And  in  spite  of  my  protests  he  made  out  dupli 
cate  papers  at  $150  per  pound,  and  informed  me 
that  there  were  full  twenty  pounds  in  the  lot, — 
just  ten  times  as  much  per  pound  as  I  had  paid  for 
it,  and  I  got  a  pound  and  a  quarter  to  the  pound. 
He  paid  me  $3000.  My  stars,  Dan'els,  if  such 
speculations  were  possible  now,  wouldn't  a  feller 
get  rich  ?  • 

"No,  Doctor;  not  your  sort  of  'fellers'  and  mine. 
It  would  be  a  case  like  the  man  who,  at  one  time  in 
his  life,  he  said,  could  have  bought  a  league  of  land 
in  Texas  for  a  pair  of  boots, — but  he  didn't  have 

the  boots,"  I  answered. 

#         #         *         * 

At  that  time  you  could  buy  anything  at  any  price 

asked  for  it,  with  the  absolute  certainty  of  doubling 

your  money  on  it  next  day,  perhaps, — in  a  short 

time,  at  least,  things  rose  so  fast,  or,  rather,  Con- 

118 


SMUGGLES   CONTRABAND    SUPPLIES. 

fed.  script  declined  so  fast.  Why,  an  officer  couldn't 
live  on  his  pay,  and  but  for  speculations,  opportu 
nities  for  which  were  frequent,  he  would  have  been 
confined  to  the  army  ration  of  beef  and  hard  tack; 
couldn't  afford  sweetnin'  and  coffee;  I  mean,  real, 
shonuff  coffee,  or  anything.  I  recollect,  my  pay 
and  commutation  for  quarters  and  fuel  and  horse 
feed  amounted  to  $365  a  month.  Think  of  that, 
and  coffee  scarce  at  $50  to  $75  a  pound. 

I  remember  one  day  I  bought  a  wagon  load  of 
home  tanned  leather  from  a  countryman,  and  with 
out  unloading  it  from  the  wagon,  sold  it  to  the 
town  storekeeper  at  $1200  profit;  and  made  $2000 
on  a  barrel  of  peach  brandy  after  drinking  off  of 
it  a  week.  Fact.  (And  the  Old  Doctor  smacked 
his  lips  at  the  bare  recollection  of  the  delicious 
aroma  of  the  Georgia  home  made  peach  brandy.) 
I  believe,  said  he,  that  what  Homer  called  the 

"Xectar  of  the  Gods"  was  Georgia  peach  brandy. 
*         #         *         # 

When  left  at  Covington,  as  stated,  in  charge  of 
the  few  bad  cases  after  the  raid,  I  found  on  hand 
at  the  hospital  quite  a  supply  of  New  Orleans 
molasses,  and  a  deficit  of  nearly  everything  else. 
I  sent  four  barrels  to  Augusta  and  sold  it,  and  with 
the  money  bought  chickens  and  such  things  as  the 
men  needed.  They  couldn't  live  on  molasses,  you 
know,,  tho'  I,  myself,  am  pretty  fond  of  sweet 
things.  I  can  show  you  fellers  today,  the  account 
of  sales  of  that  molasses  at  $37.50  per  gallon. 
119 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


THE  HOSPITAL  SOLDIER. 


SAID  our  ever  welcome  visitor  on  this  occa 
sion  :  The  hospital  soldier, — the  "convales 
cents,"  they  were  generally  called, — tho' 
many  of  them  had  convalesced  so  long  ago  that  they 
had  forgotten  they  were  ever  sick, — were  omnipres 
ent  and  all-pervading.  About  towns  and  villages 
they  were  simply  everywhere.  They  invaded  prem 
ises  on  any  and  all  and  no  pretexts;  loafed,  stole 
fruit, — well,  as  they  say  now., — the  woods  were  full 
of  them.  Go  where  you  would,  there  you  would  see 
more  or  less  gaunt,  gray-clad  figures,  usually  very 
dirty.  Of  course  this  was  a  class  of  soldiers,  mostly 
conscripts,  who  would  resort  to  almost  anything  to 
escape  duty  in  the  field.  The  better  element  were 
true  Southerners,  and  as  soon  as  able  to  leave  the 
hospital  would  hasten  back  to  their  commands.  It 
was  not  uncommon  to  see  a  soldier  twice  or  thrice 
wounded.  But  there  were  hosts  of  pretenders, 
called,  in  war  times,  "malinguerers."  I  do  not 
know  the  etymology  of  the  word.  It  often  required 
much  watching  and  some  ingenuity  on  the  part  of 
the  surgeon  to  detect  these  fellows. 

I  remember  one  fellow  who  pretended  to  have  a 
stiff  knee.  He  played  it  on  the  surgeons  for  nearly 
a  year.  We  were  deceived  by  the  fact  that  this 
party  was  an  educated  man  and  of  good  family. 
He  should  have  been  too  proud  to  shirk  duty  and 
120 


THE    HOSPITAL   SOLDIER. 

play  off,  but  he  wasn't.  I  say  should  have  been  too 
proud.  It  is  pride,  pride  of  character,  self-respect, 
regard  for  the  opinions  of  others  that  makes  a  man 
brave.  But  for  this  element  in  the  soldier's  make 
up,  there  are  few  who  would  face  a  charge.  There 
would  be  no  Hobsons,  no  Cushings. 

This  man  had  a  soft  position  as  bookkeeper  in 
one  of  the  hospitals.  By-and-bye  we  began  to  sus- 
•pect  that  that  knee  was  not  quite  as  stiff  as  he  made 
believe,  and  we  proposed  to  put  him  under  chloro 
form  to  break  up  the  adhesions,  we  told  him;  not 
intimating,  of  course,  that  we  suspected  him.  He 
had  said  it  was  the  result  of  rheumatism,,  and 
adhesions  were  supposed  to  exist.  He  expressed 
himself  as  being  very  anxious  to  have  his  leg- 
restored  to  usefulness,  and  he  could  not  very  well 
do  otherwise  than  consent  to  the  proposition.  Some 
of  the  hospital  attendants  had  told  us  that  this 
fellow  was  a  fraud,  and  that  they  had  seen  him 
when  off  his  guard,  skipping  along  as  brisk  as  a 
mink ;  but  when  he  was  hailed,  the  leg  immediately 
got  stiff,  and  he  went  to  limping. 

Three  of  the  surgeons  had  an  understanding  that 
they  would  get  everything  ready  to  operate,  and  at 
the  last  moment  remember  that  something  was  for 
gotten,  so  as  to  create  a  delay  while  the  patient  was 
in  position,  in  order  to  test  the  powers  of  the  volun 
tary  muscles  of  the  leg. 

The  man  was  accordingly  put  upon  the  table,  the 
leg  laid  bare,  and  everything  gotten  ready  for  the 
121 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

chloroform.  He  was  lying  on  his  back,  with  the 
legs  just  far  enough  down  to  bring  the  edge  of  the 
table  under  the  knee.  Just  then  I  said : 

"Here, — this  is  not  the  bottle  of  chloroform  I 
want ;  there  is  a  better  sort  on  my  desk  I  got  out  for 
this  case;  go  and  bring  it  quick." 

(The  messenger,  however,  had  his  cue  that  he 
was  not  to  bring  it  quick.) 

The  stiff  leg  held  out  manfully ;  but  it  must  have 
looked  to  the  poor  fellow  that  the  man  would  never 
come  with  that  chloroform.  Presently  the  leg 
couldn't  stand  the  strain  any  longer.  It  began  to 
weaken  and  droop.  As  quick  as  a  flash  he  would 
jerk  it  up, — but  d-o-w-n  it  would  go  again,  until 
the  extensors  just  became  paralyzed;  human  nature 
couldn't  stand  it,  and  the  leg  and  foot  just  slowly 
went  down,  down,  till  that  leg  was  as  limber  as  the 
other.  The  game  was  up.  He  saw  he  was  caught. 
He  just  got  up,  and  putting  a  bold  front  on  said : 

"Well,  gentlemen,  you  have  beat  me.  I  reckon 
I  had  better  go  back  to  my  command." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "I  think' you  had." 

And  he  went. 

122 


THE    HOSPITAL   DIETARY. 


THE  HOSPITAL  DIETARY. 

NICE  DISTINCTIONS  WITH  LITTLE  DIFFER 
ENCE. 

AS  MIGHT  be  expected  from  the  character  of 
the  food,  the  cooking,  which  was  of  the 
most  primative  sort,  the  irregular  life  and 
the  exposure, — the  vicissitudes  of  the  solider's  life, 
diarrhoea  was  the  prevalent,  the  almost  universal 
disease,  both  in  camp  and  in  hospital.     No  matter 
what  else  a  patient  had,  he  had  diarrhoea. 

The  Medical  Director  of  Hospitals  arranged  a 
diet  table,  and  all  the  hospital  medical  officers  were 
required  to  prescribe  what  was  theoretically  sup 
posed  to  be  appropriate  diet  for  each  patient.  There 
was  "Full  Diet/7  "Half  Diet,"  and  "Low  Diet," 
but  the  victualing  range  was  so  limited  that  there 
was  more  of  a  distinction  than  a  difference  between 
them.  Full  diet  was  beef  and  cawn  bread,  and 
whatever  else  could  be  had,  such  as  vegetables. 
Half  diet  was  soup  and  toast,  and  such  like ;  while 
low  diet  was  rice  and  milk, — if  you  could  get  the 
milk.  The  poor  fellows  got  awfully  tired  of  rice. 
I  remember  one  poor  fellow,  a  delicate,  thin  boy, 
convalescent  from  a  long  spell  of  typhoid  fever,  the 
curse  of  camp  and  hospital.  He  needed  nothing 
so  much  as  wholesome,  nourishing  food.  Rice  and 
milk  was  his  portion  day  in  and  day  out.  At  last 
he  revolted : 

123 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"Take  it  away/'  he  said;  "I  had  just  as  soon 
lie  down  and  let  the  moon  shine  in  my  mouth,  as  to 
eat  rice." 

And  I  am  much  of  his  way  of  thinking. 
#         #         #         # 

On  the  surgeon's  rounds  every  convalescent  was 
expected  and  required  to  be  at  or  on  his  bunk.  We 
would  go  to  each  one  and  ask  about  his  bowels,  and 
prescribe  "low  diet."  In  a  half  hour  after,  if  one 
should  go  out  behind  the  barn  or  elsewhere,  those 
convalescents  would  be  found  with  haversacks  full 
of  green  peaches  or  green  apples  or  cucumbers  or 
whatever  else  they  could  get,  devouring  them  raven 
ously.  Of  course,  they  never  got  well.  Diarrhcea 
got  to  be  second  nature  with  many  of  them. 

Speaking  of  melinguerers,  there  was  a  class  of 
older  men,  for  the  most  part  conscripts  of  the 
farmer,  or  tramp  class,  who  did  hate  the  very  sight 
of  a  gun,  and  many  of  them  would  manage  to  get 
sent  to  the  hospital  on  some  pretext  or  another,  and 
as  said,  they  made  a  protracted  visit  in  most  cases. 
A  specimen  of  this  class  was  an  old  ignorant  fellow 
named  Dusenberry.  I  found  him  amongst  some 
new  arrivals  one  morning,  sitting  on  the  side  of  a 
bunk,  all  drawn  up.  Of  course,  his  name  and  reg 
iment  had  been  entered,  and  the  diagnosis,  "diar 
rhoea"  recorded  by  the  clerk, — diarrhoea,  if  nothing 
else.  It  was  always  a  safe  refuge :  "Di-ur-ree," 
most  of  them  called  it. 

When  I  got  to  him  on  my  rounds,  I  said: 
124 


THE    HOSPITAL    DIETARY. 

"Well,  my  friend,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?" 

"Well,  Doc," — they  would  call  all  of  the  medical 
officers  "Doc,"  the  familiarity  of  the  style,  it  seems, 
was  intended  as  a  manifestation  of  a  friendly  re 
gard  and  to  propitiate;  I  need  not  say  it  was  not 
always  appreciated,  nor  accepted  in  the  spirit  in 
which  it  was  offered.  "Well,  Doc,"  he  answered, 
"I  mostly  dont  know  'zackly  what  ails  me.  I've  got 
a  misery  in  ray  chist,  a  soreness  in  my  jints, 
a-a-kinder  stiffness  in  my  back,  and  a  hurtin'  a-1-1 
over !" 

"Got  the  'di-ur-ree  ?"  said  I,  recognizing  a  make- 
believe  at  once. 

"Yes,  yes,  Doc,"  he  eagerly  assented,  "got  it 
purty  bad. 

"Got  the  hypochondriasis  ?"  said  I,  with  a  show 
of  concern. 

"The  worst  you  ever  see'd,  Doc,"  replied  the  man. 

"Put  this  man  on  low  diet,"  I  said  to  the  nurse, 
and  later,  I  told  him  to  "watch  him." 

I  found  at  another  bunk  a  burly  Irishman,  who 
was  real  sick.  I  will  say  here,  I  never  found  an 
Irishman  "malinguering," — playing  off.  They 
made  the  best  soldiers,  as  a  rule,  of  any  class,  and 
you  bet  I  am  a  friend  to  the  whole  race !  God  bless 
them,  and  give  them  "Quid  Ireland," — a  free  coun 
try,  as  a  rightful  inheritance !  I  said  to  him,  with 
a  view  of  finding  out  what  was  the  matter,  and 
what  had  been  done  for  him  before  he  came  to  me: 
125 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"What  treatment  have  you  had,  my  friend?" 
(meaning  medical). 

"Dom'd  bad,  Doc/'  said  he. 

#         #         #         # 

One  night  there  was  an  arrival  of  a  large  number 
of  sick  and  wounded,  and  every  bunk  was  filled.  All 
hands  (but  one,  I  learned  later),  went  to  work  to  re 
lieve  their  necessities.  I  was  busy  with  them,  when 
one  of  the  young  assistant  surgeons  who  had  lately 
been  sent  to  report  to  me,  came  and  said  that  a  lot 
of  new  patients  had  been  sent  to  his  ward,  and 
asked  me  if  I  "wanted  him  to  attend  to  them  to 
night?" 

I  just  looked  at  him,  a  straight  look,  full  of 
meaning,  but  said  not  a  word.  He  attended  to 
them.  I  mention  this  to  show  that  there  were  doc 
tors  and  doctors,  then  as  now,  and  that  the  "beats" 
were  not  all  conscripts  and  privates. 


A  MEDICAL  "HIGH  DADDY." 


WHEN"  I  took  charge  of  one  of  the  hospitals 
at  Marietta,  said  the  genial  Old  Doctor, 
I  found  a  great  many  soldiers  there,  appa 
rently  well  and  able  to  do  duty  in  the  field.    There 
seemed  to  be  as  many  attendants  as  patients.     So, 
T  had  a  cleaning  up,  a  sifting  out,  and  thus  re- 
126 


cruited  the  ranks  in  the  field,  considerably.  Every 
man  capable  of  bearing  and  shooting  a  gun  was 
needed  at  the  front. 

I  had  noticed  a  very  officious  chap  acting  as  ward 
master  or  nurse  in  one  of  the  wards ;  a  big,  strong, 
country  fellow,  strapping  and  hale.  He  is  the  fel 
low  Dr.  West  told  me  of  afterwards,  who,  on  being 
instructed  to  give  a  certain  patient  a  pill  every  two 
hours  during  the  night,  counted  up  that  there 
would  be  six  times  to  give  medicine,  and,  I  suppose, 
he  reasoned  that  if  one  pill  is  good,  six  are  better ; 
he  just  gave  the  patient  all  six  at  one  dose,  and  laid 
down  to  sweet  repose. 

When  I  got  to  this  fellow, — they  were  all  stand 
ing  in  a  row,  the  attendants  and  supernumeraries, 
and  I  would  question  them  and  dispose  of  them 
"on  their  merits,"  as  the  saying  is.  I  said: 

"Well,  sir,  what  command  do  you  belong  to?" 

He  was  the  most  impudent  looking  fellow  imag 
inable.  He  had  a  supercilious  look,  and  when  he 
spoke  he  turned  his  head  on  one  side,  after  the 
manner  of  Mr.  Pecksniff;  he  evidently  had  a  good 
opinion  of  himself.  He  had  been  sent  to  hospital 
for  some  sickness  (probably),  but  had  been  well  so 
long  he  had  forgotten  it.  He  had  probably  gone 
from  one  hospital  to  another  down  the  road  as  the 
sick  were  shifted  lower  down.  It  was  a  great  trick 
for  convalescents, — his  sort,  to  get  to  accompany 
the  sick  to  hospital,  and  they  managed  to  make  a 
good  long  stay^  on  one  pretext  and  another. 
127 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"What  command  do  you  belong  to?"  I  said. 

"Me?"  said  he. 

"Yes, — you." 

"I  belong  to  the  42nd,"  he  replied. 

"The  42nd  what?"  said  I. 

He  looked  at  me  in  pity  and  surprise,  and  said : 

"The  42nd  -rigiment"  (with  accent  on  "ment"). 

"Yes,  I  know,"  I  said,  "but  what  State?  The 
42nd  regiment  of  what  State  troops?" 

His  surprise  increased,  and  with  astonishment 
depicted  on  his  countenance,  not  unmixed  with 
commiseration  for  my  ignorance,  he  said : 

"Why,— the  42nd  GEORGIA,  of  course,"  as  if 
there  were  no  other  troops  in  the  field  that  he  had 
ever  heard  of. 

"Well,"  I  said, — "what  are  you  doing  here  ?  You 
are  not  sick  now  ?" 

"ME?"  he  said. 

"Yes;  you." 

"Why, — I'm — er  -  er, — I'm  the  chief, — head, — 
medical,  er— er— medical  medicine-giver— of  -  ward 
three !"  in  tones  of  surprise,  that  I  should  not  be 
aware  of  a  fact  of  such  stupendous  importance.  He 
gave  it  to  me  slowly,  for  fear,  evidently,  of  collapse. 
As  it  was,  it  had  a  most  prostrating  effect  on  me. 

"Well,"  I  said,— "I  think  you  ought  to  be  pro 
moted.  Go  back  to  the  42nd  'rigiment,9  and  tell 
your  colonel  to  make  you  head  chief,  medical  or 
otherwise,  bullet  arrester;  you'll  be  good  to  stop  a 
bullet  from  some  less  important  person." 
128 


HIS   IDEA    OF    HAPPINESS. 


HIS  IDEA  OF  HAPPINESS. 


REMEMBER  once  I  was  standing  at  the  gate 
of  the  hospital  talking  to  Dr.  Pringle,  the  vil 
lage  doctor,  who,  having  by  some  means  es 
caped  conscription,  or  was  exempt  in  some  way 
from  military  service,  for  you  must  know  that 
before  the  war  was  ended  everybody  had  to  go; 
everything  that  could  shoot  a  gun  had  to  go  to 
the  front.  Oh,  war  is  just  hell,  as  Grant  said,  and 
no  mincing  it,  if  you'll  excuse  an  emphatic  remark 
by  way  of  parenthesis.  At  first  the  best  men  volun 
teered.  As  they  were  killed  or  died  their  places  had 
to  be  filled.,  and  if  there  were  not  volunteers, — and 
later, — there  were  not  many, — the  conscript  officers 
got  what  was  left.  The  first  conscription  took 
all  men  between  20  and  45;  then,  between  45  and 
60;  then  between  16  and  20.  "Robbing  both  the 
cradle,  and  the  grave/7  one  fellow  expressed  it. 
Hence,  to  see  a  man  at  home,  and  in  citizen's 
clothes  was  indeed  a  rare  sight. 

Dr.  Pringle  was  a  handsome,  dapper  little  fellow 
of  the  band-box  sort.  He  was  about  forty, — very 
dressy,  and  smelt  of  sweet  soap.  His  shirt  front 
was  starchy  and  stiff,  and  his  black  cloth  suit  was 
neatly  brushed.  He  was  real  pretty  to  look  at; 
such  a  contrast  to  his  surroundings. 

While  we  were  in  conversation,  some  half  dozen 
or  more  "hospital  soldiers,"  "convalescents,"  had 
129 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

gathered  around,  and  with  mouths  agape  were 
listening  to  our  conversation.  Presently  one  cadav 
erous  looking  cuss,  —  the  very  picture  of  diarrhoea 
and  the  effects  of  diarrhoea,  drawled  out  : 

"Doctor,  you  ought  to  be  a  mighty  happy  m-a-n" 
(with  rising  inflection  on  "man"). 

"Why  so,  my  friend?"  said  the  doctor. 

"  'Cause  you've  got  on  a  biled  shirt,  and  your 
bowels  aint  outen  order,"  replied  the  poor  fellow. 


J*  J* 


WHY  HE  WAS  WEARY. 


THAT  reminds  me  of  a  good  one,  said  the  Old 
Doctor,  when  he  could  get  his  breath  after 
laughing  over  the  recollection  of  the  fellow 
and  his  notion  of  perfect  happiness. 

There  was  a  dandified  little  chap,  a  sweet-scented 
chap,  literally,  for  he  was  always  perfumed  with 
Lubin's  extract, — who  was  on  duty,  detailed  as 
clerk  in  the  commissary  department.  He  claimed 
to  be  a  nephew  of  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  and 
was  generally  known  as,  and  called  by  the  officers 
at  that  post,  "Uncle  Joseph's  Nephew."  He  was 
a  pretty  blonde;  parted  his  hair  in  the  middle.  It 
was  curly  and  pretty,  and  he  had  the  loveliest  little 
blonde  mustache.  His  name  was  Mitchell,  but  he 
130 


WHY    HE   WAS   WEARY. 

called  it  "Meshelle."  He  was  immensely  fond  of 
ladies, — the  young  ones, — who  petted  him  and 
made  him  a  bigger  fool  than  he  was  naturally.  He 
was  great  on  the  sing;  had  a  little  creaky  falsetto 
voice,  and  he  trummed  a  little  on  the  guitar.  He 
wrote  "poetry";  quoted  sentimental  pieces,  partic 
ularly  from  Tom  Moore.  In  brief,  he  was  a  pretty 
good  specimen  of  Hotspur's  "fop." 

One  summer  afternoon,  lolling  in  an  easy  chair, 
surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  pretty  girls,  I  saw  him  on 
the  little  gallery  or  porch  of  the  residence  of  one 
of  Covington's  best  families.  The  girls,  half  dozen 
of  them,  perhaps,  were  fanning  him  and  petting 
him  as  he  leaned  back  with  the  most  affected  air, 
and  they  were  importuning  him  to  sing.  The  bal 
cony  extended  out  to,  and  was  flush  with  the  side 
walk.  Of  course,  a  lot  of  "convalescents"  had 
assembled  to  listen;  they  were  everywhere  where 
there  was  a  prospect  of  anything  whatever  going 
on  or  happening,  or  likely  to  happen.  They  would 
seem  to  spring  out  of  the  ground.  One  of  the  girls 
was  saying: 

"Now,  Captain  Meshelle(with  accent  on  'shelle') , 
you  must  sing  some  for  us."  (Captain,  nothin'; 
he  was  just  a  private.  The  only  thing  "Captain" 
about  him  was  the  trimmin's  on  his  coat.) 

"Oh;  Miss  Sue, — I  cawnt  sing,  you  know;  only 
a  little  for  my  own  amusement,"  said  this  swell, 
with  an  air  that,  as  Sut  Lovingood  would  say,  made 
my  big  toe  itch ;  I  felt  like  kicking  him. 
131 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"No,  Captain,  but  we  know  you  can  sing,  and  do 
sing.  Maggie  says  you  sing  just  too  lovely  for  any 
thing,  and  we  will  take  no  denial,"  urged  one  of 
the  girls. 

"Do  sing  some  for  us,  Captain,"  said  another, — 
a  pretty  little  black-eyed  Miss ;  "Puss  has  come  over 
tonight  just  especially  to  hear  you  sing,  and  it  will 
be  such  a  disappointment  if  you  dont." 

"What  then,  shall  I  sing?"  said  the  "Captain." 

"Oh, — just  any-thing;  anything  you  like,"  said 
all  of  the  girls  in  chorus ;  "We'll  leave  it  to  you." 

Thus  encouraged  and  urged,  our  little  dude 
straightened  up,  and  with  a  finiky  air,  his  eyes 
turned  up  like  a  dying  goose,  in  a  little  falsetto 
voice  he  began : 

"W-h-y — am  /  so  w-e-a-k  and  w-e-a-r-y " 

(with  a  heavy  prolonged  accent  on  "we") . 

At  that  interesting  point  one  of  the  gray-backs 
who  had  been  peeking  through  the  ballusters  of  the 
little  gallery,  sang  out : 

"Hits  'cause  you've  got  the  di-ur-ree,  you  Sunday 

galoot !" 

132 


HOSPITAL   EXPERIENCES. 


HOSPITAL  EXPERIENCES. 


ON  ONE  occasion  while  serving  in  the  hospi 
tals  in  Georgia,  it  was  at  Marietta,  and 
we  had  "Officer  of  the  Day"  there,  too,  and 
it  was  my  day  on,  and  I  had  to  sleep  at  the  hospital, 
— on  entering  my  ward  one  morning, — there  had 
been  an  arrival  of  sick  and  wounded  early  that 
morning,  and  the  wards  were  all  filled  up, — the 
most  pathetic,  the  most  doleful,  yet  the  most  ludi 
crous  sight  met  my  eyes.  In  the  central  tier  of  the 
bunks  was  a  young  boy  seated  on,  or  rather,  sitting 
propped  up  in  bed  on  one  of  the  bunks,  who  had 
been  shot  through  the  mouth  while  in  the  act  of 
hollerin'  (began  the  Old  Doctor  on  this  visit  to  the 
Journal  office).  The  ball  had  passed  clear  through 
both  cheeks,  cutting  the  dorsum  or  upper  part  of 
the  tongue  pretty  bad.  There  he  sat,  bolt  upright, 
his  face  swollen  till  his  eyes  looked  ready  to  pop 
out;  the  skin  drawn  tight,  the  tongue  swollen  to 
tremendous  size,  and  hanging  out  about  three 
inches,  with  ropes  of  saliva  drippin'  off;  his  face 
framed  in  by  a  handkerchief  passed  under  the  chin 
and  tied  on  top  of  his  head.  It  gave  him  the  most 
distressed  and  the  most  distressing, — the  most 
aweful  appearance  imaginable.  Well,  sirs, — he  had 
an  old  screechy  fiddle  to  his  shoulder  and  was  just 
making  "Arkansaw  Traveler"  howl. 

That's  the  spirit,  Dan'els,  that  made  the  "Kebs" 
133 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  KEBEL  SUKGEON. 

almost  invincible.     But,  excuse  me,  I  should  ad 
dress  such,  remarks  to  Hudson  and  Bennett  and 

the  boy;  Dan'els  knows. 

*         *         *         * 

Amongst  the  new  arrivals  of  sick  and  wounded 
on  another  occasion,  whom  I  found  in  my  ward, 
was  a  small  dark-skinned  man,  apparently  twenty- 
eight  or  thirty  years  old,  who  couldn't  speak  a  word 
of  English.  I  never  did  find  out  what  nationality 
he  belonged  to.  He  had  fine  white  teeth,  coal-black 
hair,  scant  beard  and  small  mustache,  also  very 
black.  He  had  small  sharp  black  eyes  that 
twinkled.  I  think  he  was  a  Syrian,  or  Egyptian,  or 
belonged  to  some  of  those  eastern  tribes;  and  his 
eyes  had  the  look,  and  he  had  the  general  aspect  of 
a  hunted  animal. 

As  I  entered,  he  was  lying  on  a  bunk  near  the 
door,  and  he  was  watching  the  door  narrowly,  as  if 
expecting  something  or  somebody,  with  fear  and 
dread.  When  I  approached  him  and  spoke  to  him, 
he  made  no  answer,  as  he  could  neither  understand 
nor  speak  United  States,  but  his  eyes  showed  some 
concern ;  he  appeared  to  be  anxious  to  know  what  I 
was  going  to  do,  to  or  with  him.  I  had  no  means  of 
finding  out  what  ailed  him,  as  I  was  not  up  in 
Syrian  nor  Sanscript  nor  Egyptian,  nor  yet  any 
other  language  except  my  own  mother  tongue;  so, 
physical  examination  was  my  only  recourse  for 
making  a  diagnosis.  By  signs  I  made  him  under 
stand  that  I  wanted  to  look  at  his  tongue.  When 
134 


HOSPITAL   EXPERIENCES. 

that  dawned  upon  him  he  poked  out  his  tongue, 
readily,  eagerly,  it  seemed  to  me,  watching  my 
every  movement  narrowly.  But  horrors !  I 
could'nt  get  him  to  take  his  tongue  in  any  more; 
he  kept  it  out  as  long  as  I  remained  in  the  ward, 
following  me  with  his  eyes  everywhere  I  went ;  and 
not  till  some  time  after  I  had  finished  my  visit  and 
left  the  room,  the  nurse  told  me,  did  he  venture  to 
draw  in  his  tongue. 

The  next  visit,  as  soon  as  I  entered, — he  was 
watching  for  me, — out  went  the  tongue,  and  noth 
ing  could  induce  him  to  retract  it  as  long  as  I  was 
in  sight. 

I  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk,  and  in  my  efforts 
to  find  out  what  was  the  matter  with  him,  for  I  had 
as  yet  no  clew  except  that  he  had  a  rise  of  tempera 
ture,  and  I  suspected  typhoid  fever,  the  most  com 
mon  form  of  fever  those  times, — doctors  will  read 
ily  understand  why  I  palpated  his  inguinal  region, 
and  Fm  a  talkin'  to  doctors  now, — I  stripped  up 
his  shirt  over  the  abdomen,  and  placing  my  left 
hand  over  the  suspected  region  I  palpated,  tapped 
the  fingers  with  the  other  hand;  you  all  know, — to 
ascertain  if  there  was  tympanites  there,  or  "dull 
ness." 

Well,  sirs;  with  tongue  still  protruding, — a  look 

as  dark  as  his  own  Egypt  (his  or  somebody  else's), 

came  on  his  face,  and  he  just  hauled  off  and  struck 

me  just  as  hard  as  ever  he  could;  resented  it  as  an 

135 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  KEBEL  SURGEON. 

indignity,  or  an  undue  familiarity  with  his  "in- 

>ards." 

*  *         *         * 

Ah,  the  surgeons  saw  many  things  never  dreamed 
of  by  other  people.  I  could  talk  for  hours  on  un 
usual  things,  even  in  surgery,  witnessed  by  them  in 
times  of  war. 

I  found  in  my  ward  one  afternoon  at  my  usual 
evening  visit,  a  young  man  sitting  on  the  side  of 
his  bunk  eating  his  supper  of  rice,  beefsteak  and 
tea  (the  tea  made  of  sassafras,  most  likely,  for 
"store"  tea  was  not  to  be  had) .  I  asked  him  where 
he  was  wounded.  He  had  just  arrived  on  the  train 
from  the  front  with  a  large  number  of  others ;  they 
had  all  received  their  first  dressings.  He  had  a 
handkerchief  tied  under  his  jaws  and  over  his  head, 
covering  the  ears.  With  his  finger  he  touched  one 
ear  then  the  other. 

I  took  the  handkerchief  off ;  the  bullet  had  gone 
in  at  one  ear  and  come  out  at  the  other,  literally. 
Of  course  nothing  could  be  done  for  him. 

In  an  hour  afterwards  the  nurse  came  for  me; 
the  young  man  was  dying  from  internal  hemor 
rhage. 

*  *         *         * 

A  large  shipment  of  wounded  arrived  at  the  Mar 
ietta  hospitals  about  noon  one  day  and  were  imme 
diately  distributed  to  the  wards,  and  we  went  at 
once  to  work  on  them,  of  course.  The  first  one 
I  saw  and  went  to  on  entering  my  ward  was  a  young 
136 


HOSPITAL   EXPERIENCES. 

man  from  Swett's  battery,  who  was  shot  through 
the  right  lung  with  a  minnie  ball.  I  knew  him 
well.  We  had  gone  to  school  together  in  Vicks- 
burg  when  we  were  boys.  His  name  was  Walter 
Fountain.  He  was  suffering  great  pain,  and  I 
placed  a  full  dose  of  morphine  on  his  tongue,  and 
remarking,  "You  will  be  easy  presently,  Walter, ' 
proceeded  to  examine,  wash  and  dress  his  wound. 
(You  know  we  had  no  hypodermic-  syringes  then; 
that  was  before  their  day.) 

"Yes,  I'll  be  easy  presently,"  he  said. 

When  I  got  through  with  him  I  had  occasion  to 
leave  the  room  a  few  minutes,  and  hardly  had  the 
door  closed  behind  me  when  I  was  startled  by  the 
report  of  a  pistol.  I  hastened  back ;  Fountain  had 
blown  his  brains  out.  The  poor  fellow  was  "easy" 
now.  I  reprimanded  the  nurse  for  not  taking  away 
his  arms  on  entering  the  ward,  as  was  the  rule.  He 
said  that  he  had  concealed  one  pistol,  giving  up  the 
other.  He  said : 

"I  was  standing  at  the  table  with  my  back  to  him, 
rolling  a  bandage.  When  you  went  out  I  heard 
him  say: 

"  'Farewell,   father   and  mother,'   and  before   I 
could  look  around,  he  had  shot  himself." 
137 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


ENCHANTED  AND  DISENCHANTED, 


AH, — MY  recollections  of  Chattanooga  are 
ever  fresh  and  green;  they  are  delightful. 
In  the  springtime  of  life  everything  looks 
rosy;  the  prospect  opens  up  before  the  vision  most 
invitingly.  The  blood  is  warm, — the  fancy  free, — 
and,  oh,  what  possibilities  occur  to  one  who,  having 
health  and  strength,  properly  directs  his  energies ! 
To  many  of  us,  however,  it  is  the  story,  in  the  end, 
of  Dead  Sea  apples;  ashes  on  the  lips.  We  dont 
pan  out  always,  remarked  the  Old  Doctor,  with  a 
sigh. 

I  had  much  leisure,  and  you  bet  I  enjoyed  it. 
Oh,  the  rides  with  the  girls  in  the  beautiful  woods. 
The  horseback  trips  to  the  summit  of  old  Lookout 
Mountain, — the  fish  frys,  the  picnics.  Of  course, 
a  good  looking  young  officer,  with  handsome  uni 
form,  and  apparently  plent}7  of  mone}T, — plenty  of 
spare  time, — a  fondness  for  young  ladies'  society, 
and  a  liberal  share  of  impudence,  was  necessarily 
popular.  It  seems  to  me  now,  to  look  back  upon 
those  days  and  scenes,  that  the  girls  were  prettier 
than  they  are  now.  In  their  "homespun"  dresses, 
and,  often,  home  made  hats,  they  were  as  pretty  as 
pictures.  It  may  be  that  'tis  distance  (of  time) - 
that  "lends  enchantment  to  the  view/'  but  I  know 
distance  couldn't  "robe"  those  girls  in  homespun 
dresses. 

138 


ENCHANTED   AND    DISENCHANTED. 

There  was  one,  in  particular,,  whose  image  dwells 
with  me  to  this  day.  Her  name  was  Vannie  Vogle. 
She  was  "the  daintiest  little  darling  of  them  all." 
She  had  the  brownest  hair,  the  fairest  skin,  the 
reddest  lips,  the  most  laughing,  love-lit  eyes,  the 
lithest  figure,  the  smallest  foot,  the  highest,  most 
aristocratic  instep, — the  softest  touch, — oh,  she 
was  just  too  sweet  for  anything  in  this  world  ex 
cept  to  roll  into  strips  of  peppermint  candy.  An 
anchorite  could  not  have  been  indifferent  to  the 
charm  of  her  presence.  It  looked  to  me  that  on  her 
lips  and  in  her  eyes  there  was  a  standing  dare  to 
kiss  her;  it  was  audible  in  every  glance  of  her 
gazelle-like  eyes,  every  gleam  of  her  rosebud  mouth., 
every  smile;  and  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to 
keep  my  hands  off  of  her. 

One  afternoon  I  called,  and  found  her  sitting 
alone  on  the  little  sofa  in  her  parlor,  the  scene  of 
many  pleasant  tete-a-tetes  with  her. 

I  went  in  on  her  unexpectedly, — unannounced. 
She  smiled  sweetly,  but  said  nothing,  and  did  not 
rise.  Her  eyes  twinkled  mischievously, — she  kept 
her  lips  closed,  and  to  any  remark  or  question  she 
made  not  a  spoken  reply.  I  was  puzzled.  I  said : 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  you  little  witch?" 

She  smiled,  but  said  not  a  word.    I  said : 

"I'll  make  you  speak," — and  with  that  I  threw 
my  arms  around  her;  I  could  stand  the  dare  no 
longer, — and  tried  to  kiss  her. 

She  jumped  up,  and  throwing  me  off,  managed 
139 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

to  evade  me, — and  running  out  on  the  little  gallery 
or  porch,,  spat  out  a  mouthful  of  brown  juice. 
Looking  reproachfully  at  me,  as  she  wiped  her 
mouth  on  the  back  of  her  hand.,  she  said : 

"You  fool, — didn't  you  see  I  had  snuff  in  my 

mouth  ?" 

*         *         *         * 

A  FRIEND  IN  DURANCE  VILE. 

The  guard  house  was  on  the  main  street  of  the 
town.  It  was  a  two-story  brick  store  which  had 
been  converted  into  a  prison  by  putting  bars 
across  the  windows.  Vannie  and  I  often  rode 
by  there.  I  had  a  lovely  racking  horse,  the 
one  I  got  at  Munf  ordsville ;  'member?  and  she 
had  a  thoroughbred  of  her  own.  (She  was  a  thor 
oughbred,  you  bet.)  Back  in  my  town  where  I  had 
been  raised,  there  was  a  particularly  bad  young 
fellow,  almost  a  criminal,  whom  the  young  men 
would  not  associate  with;  he  was  a  low  down  fel 
low,  but  a  company  of  his  sort  had  been  formed 
(conscripted,  no  doubt),  and  brought  out  of  Jack 
son.  Of  course,  I  knew  the  fellow  and  he  knew  me. 
His  name  was  Dan  Kerry. 

As  Vannie  and  I  rode  down  by  the  guard  house 
one  afternoon  in  gay  spirits,  I  brave  in  my  fine  uni 
form  with  oodles  of  gold  lace  on  the  sleeves,  and 
my  cap  covered  with  ditto;  stars  on  my  collar, — 
oh,  I  was  gay.!  As  we  passed  the  guard  house,  old 
Dan  Kerry,  for  it  was  he,  looking  through  the  bars, 
yelled : 

140 


ENCHANTED   AND    DISENCHANTED. 

"Hello,  Dickey,  where  the  hell  did  you  get  them 
good  clothes  ?" 

I  felt  like  I  could  have  crawled  through  a  crack 
half  inch  wide;  and  Vamiie,  the  little  minx,  said, 
with  a  sly  look  out  of  the  corner  of  her  pretty  eyes : 

"Who's  your  friend,  Doctor  ?" 

%  $1  $1  ?fc 

A  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN  SPRITE. 

But  Vannie  was  not  the  only  pretty  girl  there, 
by  a  jug  full;  there  were  lots  of  them,  said  the 
Doctor.  Of  course,  the  time  I  speak  of  was  before 
I  got  married,  you  goose,  said  he  indignantly,  in 
reply  to  a  question  from  Hudson. 

There  was  one  we  called  "The  Daughter  of  the 
Eagle's  Nest,"  because  she  lived  up  on  top  of  Look 
out  Mountain.  She  was  a  brilliant  beauty,  and  the 
most  dashing,  fearless  horsewoman  I  ever  saw.  I 
was  riding  up  the  mountain  one  afternoon,  alone, 
and  happening  to  look  up  overhead, — away  out  on 
the  very  brink  of  a  precipice  five  hundred  feet  above 
me,  there  stood  a  magnificent  horse,  on  whose  back 
sat  a  lady  with  a  scarlet  jacket  on,  and  her  hair 
fallin'  loosely  down  her  back.  It  was  she,  "The 
Daughter  of  the  Eagle's  Nest."  I  thought  it  was 
the  prettiest  picture  I  ever  saw ;  the  most  romantic 
scene.  She  was  the  impersonation  to  my  mind,  of 
Scott's  Di  Vernon. 

141 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


THE  CLEVER  QUARTERMASTER, 


A  ROMANCE  OF  ARMY  LIFE  IN  CHATTA 
NOOGA. 

THE  OLD  DOCTOR  entered  the  Journal  office 
on  this  occasion  looking  unusually  radiant. 
I  saw  at  once  that  he  was  "loaded" ;  so,  giv 
ing  him  a  good  cigar.,  showing  him  courteously  to 
his  customary  seat,  while  I,  in  default,  occupied 
the  nail  keg,  I  proceeded  to  draw  him  out. 

"Got  something  on  your  mind  that  pleases  you,  I 
see,  Doctor,"  said  I.  "Let's  have  it." 

After  a  few  preliminary  puffs  of  the  Havana,  the 
curling  smoke  of  which  he  regarded  with  the  eye 
of  a  connoisseur  as  it  circled  in  blue  rings  above  his 
head,  he  said: 

I  reckon,  Dan'els,  my  being  detailed  by  General 
Bragg  at  Chattanooga  to  serve  on  a  general  court 
martial  was  an  experience  unique  in  the  history  of 
wars ;  a  surgeon,  a  non-combatant,  serving  as  pros 
ecuting  attorney  of  a  military  court.  Fortunately 
for  me  I  had  acquired  considerable  knowledge  of 
the  law,  having  begun  its  study  before  I  studied 
medicine,  and  I  was  able  to  acquit  myself  with 
credit,  so  I  was  assured  by  the  late  Judge.  Jno.  B. 
Sale  of  Aberdeen,  Miss.,  and  later  of  Memphis. 
Judge  Sale  was  one  of  the  great  lawyers  of  the 
South  in  that  day,  and  why  he  was  not  then  made 
Judge  Advocate  instead  of  me,  is  one  of  the  unfind- 
142 


THE    CLEVER    QUARTERMASTER. 

out-able  things  of  the  past.  He  was  a  captain  of 
the  line,  having  raised  and  brought  out  of  Missis 
sippi  a  splendid  company  of  volunteers.  He  was 
at  Chattanooga,  convalescent  from  a  wound,  I 
think,  at  the  time  the  court  was  organized.  He  was 
detailed  as  a  member.  Knowing  his  ability,  and 
having  a  great  admiration  and  friendship  for  him, 
of  course  I  got  points  from  him  in  making  up  my 
"briefs"  or  indictments,  as  the  case  may  be.  Later, 
Judge  Sale  was  appointed  and  commissioned  Judge 
Advocate- General  on  Bragg's  staff. 

While  serving  on  that  court,  of  course  I  was  re 
lieved  of  all  other  duty,  and  it  was  a  picnic.  Court 
was  called  at  10  a.  m.,  and  usually  adjourned  at  2 
p.  m.  Why,  I  had  more  leisure  than  I  could  dispose 
of ;  couldn't  give  it  away.  I  tried  everything ;  fish 
ing,  frolicking,  flirting.  That's  how  I  saw  so  much 
of  Vannie  and  the  other  girls. 

But,  boys,  it  was  too  funny  to  see  a  big,  six-foot 
Tennesseean,  a  soldier,  detailed  as  guard,  and  sta 
tioned  at  the  door  of  our  court,  salute  me,  as  I  en 
tered  of  mornings,  with  a  bundle  of  papers  under 
my  arm  for  appearances ;  I,  a  smooth-faced  chap  of 
23,  as  unsoldierly  a  looking  chap  as  one  would  ex 
pect  to  see  in  a  day's  march.  He  would  make  a  grab 
at  me  as  I  entered,  intending  it  for  a  s-alute.  The 
military  salute  of  a  soldier  to  a  superior  consists  of 
raising  the  right  hand  rapidly  to  the  visor  of  the 
cap, — palm  outwards,  fingers  erect, — and  lowering 
it  to  the  side  with  a  graceful  sweep  outward.  This 
143 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

fellow  had  an  idea  of  the  salute,  but  he  grabbed  at 
me  instead.  He  would  raise  his  hand  to  about  the 
chin,,  fingers  half  closed  and  pointing  outward,  and 
the  manoeuvre  looked  more  like  he  was  trying  to 
catch  a  fly  "on  the  fly"  than  salute  an  officer.  It 
was  too  funny } — especially  as  he  would  call  me 
"Jedge." 

But,  I  set  out  to  tell  you  about  the  clever  quar 
termaster.  He  was  my  room  mate.,  and  he  was  just 
the  cleverest  fellow  that  ever  was.  His  name  was 
Biddle,  Captain  Kiddle;  and  he  was  the  post  quar 
termaster.  He  was  universally  called  the  "Clever 
Quartermaster,"  because  he  was  so  accommodating, 
— especially  to  the  ladies.  His  home  was  in  New 
Orleans,  and  he  was  engaged  to  be  married,  should 
he  live  to  return,  to  a  young  lady  of  that  city,  and 
he  did  live,  and  did  return  and  did  marry  her,  and, 
as  they  say  in  the  story  books,  they  "lived  happily 
forever  afterwards."  He  was  fidelity  itself.  He 
was  very  fond  of  ladies'  society,  and  while  he 
couldn't  help  flirting  a  little,  for  the  same  reason 
that  the  Irishman  struck  his  daddy, — because  "it 
was  such  an  illigant  opportunity,"  he  was  true  to 
his  love.  He  carried  her  picture  "over  his  heart," 
he  said,  but  I  saw  him  take  it  out  of  his  coat  tail 
pocket,  and  couldn't  help  reflectin'  that  if  one's 
heart  can  only  "be  aisy  if  it's  in  the  right  place," 
he  must  have  had  a  troublesome  time,  if  there  was 
where  he  carried  his  heart.  I  used  to  catch  him 
looking  at  the  picture,  often.  He  was  about  twenty- 
144 


THE    CLEVER   QUARTERMASTER. 

five  years  old,  but  everybody  called  him  "Old  Rid 
dle/' — I  dont  know  why.  I  can  see  him  now, — his 
laughing  face  covered  with  a  full,  auburn  beard, 
and  his  laughing  blue  eyes  twinkling  with  merri 
ment.  One  reason  I  liked  him  was  because  he 
would  laugh  at  all  my  jokes;  he'd  laugh  at  any 
thing.  A  man  who  will  do  that  for  a  feller  gets 
mighty  close  to  his  affections,  dont  he,  Daniels? 
Riddle  was  a  number-one  business  man,  as  well  as 
a  most  genial  and  delightful  companion ;  still  there 
was  something  about  him  suggestive  of  a  pet  cub 
bear.  I  was  devoted  to  him.  We  roomed  together, 
as  I  said,  and  my  chief  delight  was  to  "rig"  him; 
tell  jokes  on  him  of  which  he  was  innocent.  If  I 
made  any  faux  pas,  or  got  into  any  scrapes, — which 
I  often  did,  I'd  make  a  "scapegoat"  of  Riddle,  and 
tell  it  as  having  happened  to  him  and  not  me ;  see  ? 
Oh,  he  was  an  ideal  room  mate.  In  fact  I  was  a 
young  rascal.  I  kept  his  secret  for  him,  but  got  out 
a  report  on  him  that  he  had  addressed  the  young 
lady  referred  to  in  another  place  as  the  "Daughter 
of  the  Eagle's  Nest,"  and  that  she  had  kicked  him. 
I  told  one  of  the  girls  that  I  had  a  good  joke  on 
the  captain,  and  promised  to  make  a  romance  out 
of  it  for  her, — for, — dont  laugh,  Dan'els,  you  nor 
Hudson;  I  know  Bennett  wont,  for  he's  in  love 
now,  and  all  such  matters  are,  with  him,  sorter 
"holy"  you  know, — I  used  in  the  sappy  days  of  my 
adolescence,  the  "fuzzy"  days  of  my  green  youth, — 
to-to  attempt  poetry!  Fact! 
145 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Well,  Kiddle  had  a  clerk  named  Bingham,  who, 
somehow  got  the  nick  name  of  "Bingingham,"  and 
another  clerk,  a  spoony,  wormy  looking  little  fel 
low,  named  Dent,  who  worked  in  the  quartermas 
ter's  department.  Dent  affected  the  flute.,  and  was 
sentimental  as  well  as  wormy,  or  because  he  ivas 
wormy,  I  dont  know  which,  and  I  suppose  it  dont 
make  any  difference. 

I  wrote  out  a  rig-a-marole  in  doggerel  about  Kid 
dle  and  his  imaginary  love  affair,  and  sent  it  to 
Miss  Maggie  Magee,  who  used  to  love  to  tease  old 
Kiddle  (I  think,  now,  she  was  trying  to  catch  him, 
herself ;  oh,  Bennett,  the  ways  of  girls  are  past  find 
ing  out;  you  might  as  well  surrender). 

On  her  way  to  church,  Miss  Maggie,  who  had  it 
in  her  bosom,  and  intended  to  show  it  to  the  other 
girls  (in  the  choir),  dropped  the  manuscript  on  the 
street.  It  was  picked  up,  and  somehow  it  got  into 
the  papers. 

Well,  sirs, — I  like  to  have  gotten  a  duel  on  hand ; 
not  with  Kiddle,  oh,  no ;  he  liked  it ;  he  thought  it 
was  just  too  good  for  anything,  and  had  Dent  busy 
a  month  making  copies  of  it, — but  with  the  young 
lady's  father,  bless  you, — and  I  had  to  do  some  tall 
lieing  to  keep  him  from  just  frazzling  me  into 
small  pieces ;  he  threatened  to  "wear  me  out." 

It  created  no  end  of  fun.  One  paper  after  an 
other  published  it,  till  finally  it  got  into  the  North 
ern  illustrated  papers,  and  I  saw  a  copy  of  it  with 
the  funniest  little  pictures  imaginable,  and  an  edi- 
146 


THE    CLEVER   QUARTERMASTER. 

torial  about  it.  It  was  given  in  a  sort  of  derision 
as  an  illustration  of  the  efforts  of  "Secesh.  poets." 
Here  is  the  plaguey  thing  now.  You  can  have 
it  if  you  want  it.  My  wife  came  across  it  the  other 
day,  along  with  my  "oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Uni 
ted  States,"  some  assignments  to  duty, — Provost 
Marshal's  permits  to  walk  about,  etc., — I  had  clip 
ped  it  from  the  Chattanooga  Telegraph,  then  edited 
by  Henry  Watterson;  he  hadn't  gotten  to  be  "a 
bigger  man  that  Grant"  then.  My  wife  thinks  it 
is  real  smart.  Here  it  is ;  read  it,  Dan'els." 

THE  CLEVER  QUARTERMASTER,  OR  THE  FATE  OF 
THE  FLIRT. 

Chattanooga,  Tenn.,  May  12,  1863. 
Miss  MAGGIE  : 

Let  me  tell  you  a  good  story 
On  my  room  mate,  Captain  Kiddle; 
Captain  Riddle, — Quartermaster 
Of  the  Post  of  Chattanooga; 
Riddle,  with  the  auburn  tresses 
All  combed  back  so  slick  and  shiney; 
Riddle,  with  the  whiskers  auburn, — 
(He  says  auburn;  /  say  sunburn  [t]). 
Tell  you  of  his  many  virtues, 
Tell  you  of  his  winning  ways; 
Of  how  he  came,  and  how  he  tarried, — 
How  he  courted, — would  have  married 
Chattanooga's  fairest  daughter, 
But  she  thought  he  "hadn't  ought  to" 
147 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"Shake"  the  girl  he  "left  behind  him." 
Xow,  how  she  knew  that  he  was  "mortgaged"; 
How  she  knew  that  he  was  joking, — 
When  he  told  her  of  his  feelings, — 
Feelings  of  a  tender  passion, 
Which,  he  told  her,  she  had  'wakened, — 
'Wakened  by  her  smiling  eyes, 
I  know  not ;  nor  do  I  reckon 
Anybody  else  can  tell. 
It's  not  the  province  of  us  poets 
To  sing  of  things  unless  we  know  it 
All  "by  heart." 

But  who  he  is,  and  where  he  came  from; 
How  he  came,  and  what  he  did; 
When  he  did  it,  and  how  he  did  it, — 
What  he  said,  and  how  he  said  it, — 
Be  my  theme,  and  you  will  know  it 
Like  a  book,  when  you  have  read  it. 
*         *         *         * 

In  a  far-off  Creole  city, — 
In  the  land  of  milk  and  honey ; 
Land  of  beauty  rich  and  rare, — 
Beauty  that's  not  bought  by  money ; 
(That  just  fits,  and  it's  so  funny 
That  I'm  bound  to  put  it  in) ; 
Where  the  sun  forever  shines, — 
(On  this  far-off  Creole  city) ; 
Shines  so  steady, — shines  so  hot  it 
Melts  a  fellow  (what  a  pity 
That  the  yankees  ever  got  it)  ; 
148 


THE    CLEVER   QUARTERMASTER. 

In  this  far-off  Southland  city, 

Where  the  cactus  rears  its  head ; 

Where  the  groves  of  orange  blossom; 

Where  the  gentle  South  winds  speak 

Nought  but  love. 

Where  the  magnolia's  lily  cheek, — 

Fairer  than  the  fairest  maiden's, 

Is  kissed  by  the  gentle  evening  zephyrs ; 

In  this  land,  and  in  this  city — 

In  Union  street  and  near  the  city 

Livery  stables, — stables  that  do  smell  offensive, 

There  lived  a  youth, — not  sad  or  pensive, 

But  a  gay  and  festive  cuss ; — 

Gayer  than  Old  Will-the-weaver, 

Gayer  than  a  gay  deceiver, — 

Gayer  than  a  peacock  gaudy, — 

Gayer  than  a  speckled  puppy 

With  a  ribbon  'round  his  neck. 

This  the  youth  and  this  the  hero 
Of  the  many  deeds  I  sing ; 
Hero  of  this  song  sublime; 
Hero  of  my  first  attempt, — 
In  writing  which  I  spend  my  time, — 
Time  more  precious  than  is  money; 
Time  more  precious  than  are  shin- 
Plasters  of  the  bank  of  Chatta- 
ISTooga, — or  the  many-colored  plasters 
Which  are  now  so  very  plenty. 

This  the  youth  and  this  the  hero ; 
140 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

This  the  Clever  Quartermaster ; 
This  the  favored  of  the  ladies, — 
This  the  favored  of  the  press. 
Girls,  to  gain  his  good  opinion 
All  consult  him  as  to  dress, — 
As  to  every  little  matter, — 
Whether  picnic,  dance,  or  soiree, — 
Buggy  ride  or  small  tea  party; 
Whether  fancy  dances  dizzy, 
With  some  fellow  slightly  boozy 
Are  a  la  mode. 
If  Eiddle  shakes  his  head, — 
Big  old  head  with  whiskers  shaggy, 
The  fiat's  made,  and  all  the  Misses 
Lift  their  hands  in  holy  horror, 
And  exclaim,  "Oh,  shocking  taste 
To  have  an  arm  around  one's  waist." 
*         *         *         * 

Shall  I  tell  you  how  he  met  her? 
Where  he  met  her  ?    What  he  said  ? 
Met  Chattanooga's  fairest  daughter, — 
Daughter  with  the  flowing  tresses  ? 
With  a  laugh  like  gushing  waters, 
Making  music  in  the  air? 
With  the  eyes  so  soft  and  tender, 
Full  of  love  and  soft  emotion  ? 
Eyes,  beneath  whose  silken  lashes 
Soft  and  warm  the  love  light  dwells; 
And  whose  lips  are  so  bewitching 
That  a  fellow's  fairly  itching 
150 


THE    CLEVER   QUARTERMASTER. 

To  kiss  from  their  cherry  softness 
The  fragrant  nectar  nestling  there? 
Tell  you  all  about  the  nonsense 
He  had  whispered  in  her  ear., — 
Ear  forever  lent  to  listen 
To  the  siren  song  of  love  ? 

Yes ;  but  all  you  girls  have  had  experience 

In  this  pleasant  sort  of  thing, — 

And  all  of  this  you'll  take  for  granted ; 

They  wer(e  pretty  well  acquainted; 

Had  met  at  evening's  twilight  hour, — 

Had  met  beneath  the  vine-clad  bower, — 

Bower  through  whose  vine-clad  lattice 

Fell  soft  Luna's  silv'ry  rays. 

Had  met  at  church, — at  choir, — at  tea ; 

Had  met  at  tea  at  some  kind  neighbors ; 

Had  met  and  mingled  at  their  neighbors. 

'Twas  in  Tennessee, 

In  Chattanooga, 

At  Mrs.  Blankse's 

In  the  parlor — 

Behind  the  door, — 

In  a  chair. 

There  he  met  this  lovely  maiden, — 
Lovlier  far  than  the  most  radiant 
Dream  of  love  that  ever  flitted 
With  a  form,  oh,  light  and  airy, — 
Flitted  like  a  winsome  fairy 
Thro'  the  poet's  burning  brain. 
151 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

I  cannot  now  put  in  rhyme 
All  that  was  said  on  that  occasion. 
The  fact  is, — I  havn't  time,— 
Even  to  tell  how  the  dancers 
Mingled  in  the  mazy  dances; 
How  they  danced  and  how  they  chatted, 
How  the  music's  'livening  strain 
Thrilled  the  dancers  as  they  chatted, — 
Chatted  as  they  moved  along ; 
Chatted  like  some  young  canaries, — 
Chattered  like  a  lot  of  squirrels ; 
Chatted  like  the  very  dickens. 
Nor  to  tell  of  how  Mechelle, — 
"Me-shelle,"— "Uncle  Joseph's  nephew" 
Put  on  the  fancy  licks  and  "did 
The  thing  up  brown." 
How  this  beau  with  eyes  so  tender, — 
How  this  beau  with  form  so  slender, 
Swayed  his  figure  to  and  fro ; 
How  this  heaviest  "heavy  coon  dog" 
Turned  the  ladies  in  the  quadrille, — 
Turned  the  ladies  on  the  corners, — 
Turned  them  while  they  gaily  chatted, — 
Chatted  as  they  moved  along ; 
While  old  Adam  played  and  patted 
On  the  floor  with  even  measure, — 
Measure  keeping  to  his  song. 

*         *         *         * 

In  the  dance  they  met  each  other; 
152 


THE    CLEVER   QUARTERMASTER. 

Met, — and  turned, — and  moved  along; 
Moved  through  dance  without  emotion. 
*         *         *         * 

Now  the  dance  was  done  and  over; 
All  the  guests  had  now  departed, — 
Departed,  sleepy,  to  their  homes. 

But,  alone,  this  happy  couple 
Arm  in  arm  moved  gently  'long ; 
Moved  gently  'long  the  long  piazza ; 
Moved  along  in  the  silvery  moonlight, — 
Moonlight  falling  gently  o'er  them, — 
Falling  o'er  them  like  a  dream. 

Thus  they  walked,  with  hands  entwining; 
Thus  she  walked  with  head  inclining, — 
With  her  tresses  gently  resting, — 
Eesting  on  his  manly  breast. 
Thus  he  woo'd  her, — didn't  win  her, 
Woo'd  her  with  this  siren  song : 

'Chattanooga's  fairest  daughter, — 
'Daughter  of  the  Eagle's  Nest' ; 
Daughter  of  the  fertile  valleys ; 
Daughter  of  the  laughing  waters; 
This  fond  heart  for  thee  is  pining, — 
This  fond  heart  is  yearning  for  thee, — 
Yearning  for  thee  as  its  mate. 
Thy  loved  image  in  it  dwelling 
Rules  supreme  in  every  thought, — 
The  mistress  of  each  kind  emotion, — 
153 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Mistress  of  each  rising  joy, — 

Mistress  of  each  aspiration. 

In  my  room  so  sad  and  dreary, — 

In  my  room  so  bleak  and  drear, — 

Sit  I,  lonely,  making  abstracts, — 

Abstracts  of  my  daily  'issues.' 

There  my  sweetness  daily  wasting, — 

Wasting  on  the  desert  air. 

Come  with  me  to  my  own  country ; 

Come  with  me  and  be  my  mate. 

There  old  'Bingingham'  shall  please  thee 

With  his  songs  of  glories  past. 

Songs  of  how  he  always  used 

To  "do"  the  vendors  of  produce, 

Produce  offered  in  our  markets, 

In  our  far-off  Southland  city. 

There  old  Dent, — the  funny  fellow, 

Good  old  Dent, — the  story  teller, 

(Tells  them  better  when  he's  'mellow7), 

Shall  regale  thy  leisure  moments 

With  sweet  music's  softest  strain. 

There  with  (f)lute  so  sad  and  plaintive, — 

Plaintive  as  the  cooing  dove, 

Shall  woo  thee  for  me, — sing  to  thee, 

And  tell  thee  of  my  speechless  love." 
*         *         *         * 

Then  this  maid  so  meek  and  modest, 
Gently  turned  her  head  away; 
Turned  her  soft  eyes  from  his  face ; 
Turned  her  fairy  form  around; 
154 


THE    CLEVER   QUARTERMASTER. 

Turned  her  back  upon  old  Eiddle. 
Raised  she  then  her  fairy  hand, — 
Raised  her  hand  with  tiny  'kerchief, — 
Raised  it  to  her  ruby  lips, — 
Raised  it  to  her  eyes  so  meek, — 
Gentle  eyes,  suffused  with  tears ; 
Ope'd  her  lips, — and  after  sneezing, 
Thus  replied: 

'Go  away,  you  gay  deceiver, 
Gayer  than  is  speckled  puppy; 
Go  away  you  heartless  wretch ! 
Leave  the  maiden  whose  affections 
You  have  won,  to  die  alone. 
Your  soft  words  have  waked  the  passion 
Slumb'ring  in  her  maiden  breast, — 
The  infant  passion  struggling  there. 
Chattanooga's  lonely  daughter 
Will  not  go  to  your  distant  country, 
Will  not  believe  a  word  you've  told  her ; 
(Let  her  'pine'), 
You've  got  a  girl  in  Lou'siatia" 
*         *         *         * 

Old  Riddle  shook  his  shaggy  head, 
And  scratched  it,  too;  was  sore  perplexed 
To  know  by  what  means  she  discovered 
His  faith  and  love  already  plighted 
To  "the  girl  he  left  behind  him." 

He  tarried  not, — but  straight  he  left  her ; 
Left  her  to  her  thoughts  alone ; — 
155 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Left  her,  without  another  word, 
And  straight  way  home  he  toddled; 
Saying,  as  he  moved  along,  — 
Moved  along  with  pace  unsteady  : 
"I  wonder  who  the  thunder  told  her? 
It  must  have  been  that  frisk'  doctor." 


LOVE'S  STRATAGEM. 


THE  DOCTOR  PUTS  UP  A  JOB  ON  THE  MAJOR. 

I  ALWAYS  had  a  mighty  sharp  eye  for  pretty 
girls,  said  the  Old  Doctor,  as  he  seated  himself 
in  our  office  chair.     If  there  was  one  in  the 
neighborhood,  Fd  find  her.     A  regular  "butterfly- 
lover/'  I  flitted  from  flower  to  flower,  always  deep 
est  in  love  with  the  last  girl  I  met. 

There  was  one  in  the  neighborhood  when  we  were 
camped  near  Chattanooga,  some  two  weeks  before 
Bragg  invaded  Kentucky.  I  found  her,  of  course, 
and  "had  it  pretty  bad."  She  lived  down  the  valley 
some  three  miles  below  our  camp.  Her  name  was 
Mary  Coffey.  Her  father  was  a  rich,  pompous  old 
fellow  named  "General"  Coffey.  Why  "General," 
I  dont  know;  militia  general  once,  I  reckon,  away 
back  in  the  forties.  In  the  South  in  those  days, 
156 


LOVE'S   STRATAGEM. 

everybody  who  was  anybody  in  particular  had  a 
military  title,  and  the  titles  were  graded  according 
to  one's  importance  in  his  vicinity,  and  ranged  all 
the  way  from  "Cap,"  bestowed  on  the  postmaster 
and  the  city  marshal,  through  "Major,"  the  title 
of  the  editor,  "Colonel,"  the  title  of  the  town  lawyer 
and  politician,  to  "General"  for  the  fat,  old  rich 
fellows.  Hence  "General"  Coffey,  I  suppose.  He 
had  the  gout; — one  foot  all  swelled  up  and  band 
aged,  and  he  hobbled  about,  when  he  hobbled  at 
all,  on  a  stick  and  a  crutch.  He  was  a  typical  old- 
school  gentleman  of  the  South,  hospitable,  fond  of 
company,  a  great  talker  and  a  great  reader;  had 
nothing  else  to  do  but  talk  and  read,  when  he  could 
get  anybody  to  sit  still  and  listen  to  him.  His 
"overseer"  attended  to  business, — the  general  was 
a  planter, — and  the  general  staid  indoors  mostly, 
taking  his  toddy,  smoking  his  pipe  and  reading. 
He  was  a  widower,  and  lived  alone  with  his  one 
child,  this  pretty  daughter.  Well,  I  became  very 
fond  of  Miss  Mary,  and  went  to  see  her  every  night ; 
but,  confound  it,  the  old  general  would  hobble  in 
the  parlor  and  anchor  himself  and  stay  till  I  left. 
He  had  a  yarn  about  some  seven  or  eight  foolish 
virgins  who  didn't  keep  their  lamps  trimmed,  and! 
got  out  of  oil  on  a  critical  occasion  (see  the  Bible). 
He  drew  an  analogy  between  these  negligent  vir 
gins  and  the  Confederate  government,  applying  it 
in  some  way,  that  I  never  did  understand,  altho5" 
he  told  it  to  me  every  evening  for  a  week.  It  took 
157 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

him  about  an  hour  to  tell  it,  and  he  would  tell  it 
with  as  much  gusto  and  relish  as  if  it  were  the  first 
time.  So,  Mary  and  I  could  do  nothing  but  grin 
and  bear  it,  casting  loving  looks  at  each  other  when 
ever  the  old  man  would  stoop  over  to  spit ;  or  "play 
hands"  on  the  sly.  That  would  never  do  in  this 
world.  I'd  get  out  of  practice  making  shonuff  love, 
and  I  was  just  dying  to  get  Mary  by  herself.  Love 
laughs  at  locks,  they  say.  I  set  to  work  a  scheme, 
and  finally  put  up  a  job  on  the  major.  The  major 
was  a  fat  fellow  named  Kobison,  a  bachelor,  about 
forty  years  old.  He  was  an  aide,  or  something,  on 
the  general's  staff;  our  general,  not  General  Coffey. 
He  was  as  vain  as  a  peacock,  a  regular  "masher," 
and  prided  himself  on  his  (to  him)  good  looks  and 
his  "conversational  powers."  Next  day  I  said : 

"Major,  dont  you  want  to  call  on  a  pretty  young 
lady  tonight  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  major,  as  he  glanced  at  himself 
in  the  little  pewter-rimmed  mirror  hanging  on  the 
tent  pole,  and  stroking  his  mustache  lovingly,  "who 
is  she?" 

"It's  Miss  Coffey,  only  daughter  of  General 
Coffey,  a  rich  old  Southern  planter  down  the  valley 
a  little  way.  He's  a  fine  old  gentleman,  a  fine 
scholar,  a  great  reader,  and  you  will  enjoy  his 
society,  I  am  sure,  as  only  one  of  your  literary 
attainments  can,"  said  I. 

The  major  swelled  with  pride,  and  took  another 
side  glance  at  himself.  "All  right,"  said  he;  "we'll 
158 


go  to  night.  The  nights  are  lovely  now;  moon 
about  full,  and  if  there  is  anything  I  do  love  it  is 
to  talk  to  a  pretty  girl  by  moonlight." 

I  didn't  say  anything  to  this  sentiment,  tho'  I 
could  have  said  with  Platt,  "me,  too/'  and  added, 
—"yes,  I  see  you  at  it  now ;  something  I  have  been 
trying  to  do  for  a  week,  but  the  general — ."  In 
stead,  I  said: 

"Major,  I  ought  to  warn  you  now,  that  the 
general  will  talk  you  to  death  if  you  let  him." 

The  major  drew  himself  up  proudly,  and  with 
a  scornful  look  and  a  most  conceited  smirk,  said: 

"You  forget,  my  son,  that  I'm  a  lady's  man,  and 
something  of  a  talker,  myself! 

"All  right,"  said  I. 

So,  we  went,  that  very  night.  The  major  got 
himself  up  in  his  best  shape,  dress  parade  uniform, 
epaulets,  plumed  hat  and  all;  coat  buttoned  up  to 
the  chin,  which  must  have  been  very  uncomforta 
ble,  as  it  was  yet  September  and  pretty  hot.  He  was 
so  fat  the  buttons  were  on  the  strain,  and  he  looked 
like  a  stuffed  frog.  I  wore  a  "fatigue"  coat, — loose 
and  easy-like.  The  major  had  a  horse  he  called 
"Flop."  I  rode  my  little  bay. 

Entering  the  parlor  on  invitation  of  a  servant, 
we  found  the  general  and  Miss  Mary  both  there. 

"General  Coffey, — this  is  my  distinguished 
friend,  the  gallant  Major  Robison,  of  the  general's 
staff;  Miss  Coffey,  Major  Eobison." 

After  a  cordial  welcome,  the  general  and  the 
159 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

major  were  soon  engaged  in  an  animated  running 
talk,  the  major  getting  in  his  licks  with  commend 
able  and  encouraging  skill,  and  he  was  in  fine 
spirits.  I  gave  Miss  Mary  my  arm,  and  excusing 
ourselves,  we  went  out  on  the  long  front  gallery  in 
the  moonlight.  We  staid  out  till  eleven.  Oh,  it 
was  a  lovely  night,  indeed;  full  moon,  cloudless 
sky,  clear  Southern  atmosphere,  and  so  still  I  could 
hear  myself  think  what  a  good  joke  I  was  having 
on  the  major.  The  lovely  valley,  of  which  the  gal 
lery  commanded  a  fine  view,  lay  peacefully  spread 
out  before  us,  and  there  was  nothing  to  suggest 
that  "grim  visaged  war"  was  snoring  all  along  the 
banks  of  the  Tennessee,  in  about  two  miles  of  us, 
and  that  tomorrow  we  should  see  him  shake  himself 
and  put  on  the  Byronic  "magnificently  stern  array." 
In  fact,  the  stillness  was  unbroken,  except  by  the 
barking  of  a  little  dog  away  over  yonder,  who,  hear 
ing  the  echo  of  his  voice,  would  bark  at  it,  and  thus 
keep  up  the  endless  chain  all  night,  I  reckon.  But 
I  wasn't  thinking  of  the  night,  nor  the  army,  nor 
war,  nor  the  valley,  nor  the  little  dog,  just  then. 
I  was  in  better  business.  Yum,  yum.  Ever  been 
there,  Dan'els? 

Byme-by  Mary  said: 

"I  reckon  we'd  better  go  in  and  see  how  father 
and  the  major  are  making  it.  It  wont  look  right 
if  we  stay  out  all  evening." 

So,  we  went  in.  As  we  entered  the  light  of  the 
hall,  she  dexterously  flipped  off  a  little  face  powder, 
160 


LOVE'S   STRATAGEM. 

which  had  somehow  gotten  on  the  left  breast  of  my 
coat,  and  picked  off  a  long  yellow  hair,  which  some 
how  had  gotten  tangled  on  a  button.  We  entered 
the  parlor.  The  general  had  gotten  the  bulge  on 
him  and  was  doing  all  the  talking,  long  since.  The 
major,  whose  face  was  red,  eyes  ditto,  jumped  up 
quick,  and  swallowing  a  yawn,  said : 

"Well,  doctor,  it's  about  time  we  were  going"; 
and  was  about  to  be  off. 

Miss  Mary  said :  "Oh,  it's  early  yet,  and  such  a 
lovely  night."  (I  could  have  hugged  her,  then  and 
there,  or  anywhere  else).  I  took  out  my  watch.  It 
was  eleven  o'clock.  I  didn't  announce  the  fact, 
however,  but  said : 

"Major,  has  the  general  told  you  his  beautiful 
allegory  of  the  seven  virgins,  yet  ?" 

"No,"  said  the  old  general,  quickly;  "I'm  glad 
you  reminded  me  of  it.  Sit  down,  major,  and  let 
me  tell  it  to  you." 

And  the  major  had  to  sit  down,  but  he  did  it 
with  a  bad  grace,  and  with  a  glance  at  me  as  dark 
as  Erebus. 

I  again  gave  Miss  Mary  my  arm,  and  asking 
them  to  excuse  us,  as  we  had  had  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  it,  we  went  out  on  the  gallery  again,  and 
had  another  picnic.  (More  face  powder  and  yellow 
hairs  to  brush  off;  yum,  yum.) 

I  said  it  took  the  general  an  hour  to  tell  the  yarn. 
I  knew  just  how  to  time  our  stay  on  the  gallery, 
and  made  hay,  figuratively,  while  the  (moon)  sun 
161 


KECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

shone.  Presently  a  rooster  away  over  yonder  waked 
up  and  gave  the  midnight  signal.  Another  took 
it  up  and  passed  it  down  the  line  our  way,  till  the 
general's  chickens  caught  it,  and  repeated  it  about 
a  thousand  times,  seemed  to  me ;  crowing  for  mid 
night.  We  went  in.  The  general  was  nearing  the 
climax,  and  was  as  wide  awake  as  a  mink.  But  the 
major.  My  stars  !  He  was  mad ;  mad  as  a  wet  hen. 
He  was  so  mad  he  looked,  as  big  as  he  was,  to  be 
actually  swelled.  His  eyes  were  red ;  he  was  sleepy, 
shonuff,  and  couldn't  swallow  the  yawns,  but  had 
to  let  them  come  out.  He  jumped  up,  cutting  off 
the  general  about  at  "lastly/7  and  was  hardly  civil 
in  leave  taking,  notwithstanding  the  old  gentle 
man's  courteous  invitation  to  call  again,  which  was 
repeated  so  sweetly  by  Mary.  He  bolted  out  of  the 
door  and  made  for  "Flop,"  muttering  between  his 
clenched  teeth :  "Yes,  Til  call  again."  He  was  so 
mad  he  blowed  like  a  porpoise ;  he  even  snorted.  I 
didn't  say  a  word;  dasn't.  Neither  did  he.  We 
mounted  in  silence  and  rode  away,  I  keeping  just  a 
little  behind  the  major,  and  as  mum  as  an  oyster. 
We  rode  out  of  the  lawn, — rode  across  the  peaceful 
valley,  up  the  slope  of  a  hill,  from  the  summit  of 
which  could  be  had  a  fine  view  of  the  old  colonial 
manor  house  of  the  general's  we  had  just  left. 
Arrived  at  the  summit  the  major  turned  his  horse 
around,  reined  in ;  "Whoa,  Flop,"  he  said,  and  then, 
slowly  and  deliberately  and  for  about  a  minit,  shook 
162 


WHAT   PUZZLED   THE    DOCTOR. 

his  fist  in  the  direction  of  the  house,  and  said,  with 
great  deliberation: 

"General  Coffey;  G — d d — n  you  and  your 

seven  virgins  and  their  oil  I" 

I  fell  off  my  horse  and  just  rolled  on  the  ground 
and  hollered.  I  didn't  go  near  the  major  for  a 
week,  and  when  I  did  he  threw  a  rock  at  me. 


WHAT  PUZZLED  THE  DOCTOR, 


DAN'ELS,  said  the  genial  old  gentleman,  the 
next  time  he  favored  the  Journal  office 
with  a  visit,  continuing  his  remarks  anent 
"commutation,"  touched  upon  in  a  former  recital; 
Dan'els,   speaking   of   commutation   for   quarters, 
fuel,  rations,  horse  feed,  etc.,  durin'  the  war,  I  know 
you  fellers  dont  understand  what  it  was.     Fll  ex 
plain  it  to  you,  as  well  as  I  can,  for  there  is  one 
thing  connected  with  it  that  I  cant  get  thro'  my 
head,  and  never  did : 

A  colonel  (of  whatever  arm  or  staff),  is,  when  on 
post  duty,  entitled,  in  addition  to  his  pay,,  to  be 
furnished  with  four  rooms  or  tents  for  "quarters" ; 
—feed  for  four  horses,  and  four  cords  of  wood  a 
month.  A  major  to  three,  and  a  captain  to  two  of 
163 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

each  item  mentioned ;  while  a  lieutenant  is  entitled 
to  only  one  room,,  feed  for  one  horse  and  one  cord  of 
wood  a  month.  Or,  if  they  prefer,  they  could  pro 
cure  these  things  on  their  own  hook,  and  the  gov 
ernment  would  allow  them  pay  in  lieu  of  furnish 
ing  them.  Most  all  of  the  officers  preferred  to  draw 
the  pay  and  provide  for  themselves;  there  was 
money  in  it. 

Now,  I  never  could  understand  the  discrimina 
tion.  It  surely  doesn't  take  any  more  room  for  a 
colonel  to  sleep  in  than  it  does  for  a  captain,  and 
no  more  wood  to  keep  a  major  warm  than  it  does 
a  lieutenant.  There  was  I,  a  "Major,"  entitled  to 
my  three  cords  of  wood,  and  old  Doctor  Barker,  as 
big  as  two  of  me,  but  only  a  "Captain"  and  assist 
ant  surgeon, — he  had  to  keep  warm  as  best  he  could 
on  two  measley  little  cords  of  wood.  See  ?  It  aint 
fair.  And  bless  your  soul,  he  had  to  sleep  in  two 
rooms,  while  little  /  could  spread  myself  around 
loose  all  over  three  rooms  and  warm  myself  by  three 
fires  at  once. 

And  the  Philosopher  shook  with  merriment  at 
his  alleged  wit. 

164 


THE    STORY    OF   A    STUMP. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  STUMP, 


WHEN  the  Old  Doctor  was  last  in  Austin 
and  honored  the  Journal  office  with  a 
visit,  I  said  to  him : 

"Doctor,  did  you  ever  notice  that  old  crippled 
Confederate  soldier  sitting  on  the  steps  at  the  cap- 
itol?" 

Yes,  said  he, — I  know  him  well.  I  amputated 
his  leg  at  Atlanta. 

It  is  a  very  common  thing  these  days,  and  has 
been  for  many  years,  to  see  a  stump,  continued  the 
Doctor,  to  see  some  ex-Confederate  stumping  his 
weary  way  through  life  on  crutches  or  a  wooden 
leg;  so  common  that  it  does  not  challenge  a  re 
mark,  or  hardly  a  notice;  we  do  not  give  it  a 
thought. 

But,  oh,  how  eloquent  is  that  stump,  or  that 
empty  sleeve !  What  a  tale  it  could  tell, — if  any 
body  had  time  to  listen  to  it.  See  that  old  fellow, 
now,  pegging  along  there  on  his  wooden  stump, 
too  poor  to  buy  even  an  artificial  limb.  Old,  gray 
and  grizzled.  Time  was,  when  he  was  young.  Time 
was,  when  he,  too,  was  fired  with  patriotism, — shall 
we  say? — or  misdirected  zeal? — to  take  up  arms 
against  his  flag,  and  thought  it  was  a  religious  duty. 
Time  was,  when  the  hot  blood  of  youth  coursed 
through  his  veins,  and  he  throbbed  with  the  exhila 
ration  of  love,  and  hope,  and  ambition,  perhaps; 
165 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

when  the  light  of  love  shone  in  his  eyes,  as  he 
pressed  Mary  to  his  bosom;  when,  knapsack  on 
back,  and  gun  in  hand,  he  hurried  from  home  to 
join  the  boys  going  to  the  front; — or  stole  a  kiss, 
perhaps,  from  timid,  trusting  little  Lucy, — a  meek- 


"Hurried  to  join  the  boya  at  the  front." 

eyed  maiden  who  already  saw  in  her  soldier  lover 
a  hero,  and  to  whom  he  had  pledged  his  undying 
faith. 

Time  was,  when,  with  recollections  of  Mary,  or 

Lucy, — perhaps  with  the  fragrance  of  that  last  kiss 

lingering  still  in  his  memory,  he  joined  the  terrible 

charge,  to  ''seek  the  bubble  reputation  at  the  can- 

166 


THE   STORY   OF   A   STUMP. 


non's  mouth/' — to  prove  himself  worthy  of  her; 
and  like  "Brunswick's  fated  chieftain,  foremost 
fighting,  fell." 

S    . 


*?* 

•Foremost  fighting  fell." 


%£** 


Time  was,  when,  fainting  from  the  loss  of  blood, 

he  was  carried  to  the  field  hospital,  where  the  first 

dressing  was  put  on  his  wounds,  and  the  blood 

stanched;  when, delirious  with  fever  and  pain,  later, 

167 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

at  the  general  hospital,  the  bearded  and  the  beard 
less  surgeons  consult,  and  decide  that  the  loss  of  a 
leg  is  necessary  to  save  life;  when  consciousness  is 
restored,  and  the  alternative  is  told  him, — quick 
as  a  flash  he  sees  the  long  years  ahead,  when,  lame 
and  old,  and  perhaps  friendless,  he  shall  drag  out 


"Carried  bleeding  to  the  rear." 

a  miserable  old  age  in  some  "Home"  or  asylum; 
or  die  of  hunger  and  neglect  on  the  roadside.  But 
he  loves  life ;  he  clings  to  delusive  hope.  "Cut  her 
off,  Doctor,"  he  says,  stoutly,  but  with  a  suppressed 
sigh. 

The  fumes  of  chloroform  are  suggested  to  me  by 
168 


THE   STORY   OF   A   STUMP. 

every  stump.  I  see  a  strong  man  stretched  prone 
on  the  table.  I  see  the  aproned  surgeons, — stern 
of  visage, — kind  and  gentle  of  heart;  I  see  the 
gleam  of  a  long  knife;  I  see  the  warm  life  blood 
spurt  out  as  it  cleaves  the  quivering  white  flesh.  I 
hear  the  grating  of  the  saw  as  it  cuts  its  way  thro7 


"Cut  'er  off,  doctor" 

the  bleeding  bone.  I  see  the  ghastly  wound,  gap 
ing,  gory;  its  flabby  flaps  weeping  crimson  tears. 
The  thirsty  sponge  drinks  them  eagerly;  they  are 
quickly  dried,  closed,  stitched;  and  a  roller  ban 
dage  is  turned  around  the  stump.  The  form  is 
transferred  to  a  cool  cot  beneath  the  shade  of  a 
169 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

wide-spreading  oak,  and  a  nurse  sits  by  to  fan  him 
and  keep  off  the  flies. 

He  rallies  from  the  sleep  of  the  merciful  anes 
thetic.  He  slept  all  through  the  ordeal.  A  minute 
seems  not  to  have  elapsed  since  the  first  whiff  of  the 
chloroform;  he  felt  nothing,  knew  nothing.  He 
wakes  to  find  his  leg  gone.  He  brushes  away  a  tear, 
and  a  big  lump  comes  in  his  throat,  as  he  thinks 
of  Mary,  in  the  little  house  on  the  hill ;  or  of  Lucy, 
may  be, — if  it  be  she, — the  meek-eyed  maiden  to 
whom  he  is  promised ;  who  sees  in  the  army  but  one 
figure, — in  the  list  of  wounded  but  one  name,  and 
it  is  burned  into  her  very  soul  as  she  reads  opposite 
that  name  in  the  paper,  '"desperately  wounded." 

Then,  the  long,  long  days  of  fever  and  pus ;  for 
in  those  days,  you  know,  Dan'els,  we  knew  nothing 
of  "germs"  and  "antiseptics,"  nor  how  to  prevent 
suppuration;  we  believed  it  necessary  to  healing. 
Oh,  the  suffering, — the  days  of  agony,  and  the 
nights  of  torture,  as  the  wound  became  dry  and  hot, 
and  the  temperature  'rose. 

By-and-bye,  he  is  convalescent.  He  can  sit  up  on 
the  side  of  his  bunk  and  scrawl  a  repetition  of  his 
oft-told  tale  of  love  to  her  at  home;  but  hope  is 
dead  in  him.  He  is  of  no  use  in  the  army  now ;  he 
is  discharged ;  turned  loose  on  a  cold  world,  maimed 
and  broken  in  health  and  spirit,  to  shift  for  himself 
as  best  he  can. 

He  survives  the  war.  He  is  buffetted  about,  here 
and  there,  living,  God  knows  how,  as  best  he  can. 
170 


THE   STORY   OF   A   STUMP. 


Now  lie  sells  lead  pencils  on  the  granite  steps  of 
the  Texas  capitol. 

"Buy  a  pencil,  Doctor?" 


iti 

£;&!?:    ix\\v'  \Y\\\V 

-^«  !WAX\\\\ 


-£i€g: 

-'>^- , 

'^r*^ 

•'M 

»*••?«« 


"Poor  old  Confed!    Despised  old  Rebel!" 

"Yes,  my  boy, — a  dozen  of  them.    Here,  give  me 
two  dozen;  Fm  clean  out  of  pencils  at  home/'  I 
say  (a  pardonable  lie,  God  knows).     Neglected, — 
171 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

despised, — alone.  Had  he  been  on  the  other  side, 
where  his  brother  was,  he  would  now  be  drawing  a 
pension  from  the  government.  Poor  old  Confed. 
Despised  old  "rebel."  They  told  you  a  wound  would 
be  an  honor, — and  you  a  hero.  Cruel  mockery.  Bit 
ter  deception.  Your  life  blood  shed,  your  youth 
wasted;  all  in  vain.  The  "Lost  Cause"  is  a  mem 
ory.  So  is  Lucy.  She  married  the  butcher,  who 
staid  at  home  and  got  rich. 

Now  you  are  waiting, — only  waiting — the  time 
when  you  may  join  your  comrades  in  arms  and  mis 
fortune,  on  the  other  side.  You  see  already  the 
•"bivouac  on  the  shores  of  eternity";  you  hear  the 
ripple  of  the  waves  as  they  dash  upon  its  banks. 
You  hear  the  bugle  call  to  arms  no  more ;  you  hear 
the  "tattoo"  and  "lights  out,"— and  long  for  the 
time  when  your  tired  old  bones  may 

*"—      softly  lie  and  sweetly  sleep, 

Low  in  the  ground ;  when 

The  soul, — God's  glorious  image,  freed  from  clay, 
In  heaven's  eternal  spheres  shall  shine, 
A  star  of  day." 

172 


OLD   SISTER   NICK. 


OLD  SISTER  NICK. 


PIES  AND  PIETY. 

WHEN  I  was  stationed  at  Lauderdale 
Springs,  Miss.,  in  the  extreme  eastern 
part  of  the  State,  in  the  piney  woods 
region,  where  I  had  charge  of  a  ward  in  one  of  the 
general  hospitals,  said  our  Genial  Visitor  on  an 
other  occasion,  there  was,  amongst  the  refugees, 
quite  a  number  of  whom  had  nocked  there  out  of 
the  way  of  the  yankees  after  Yicksburg  fell,  the 
most  comical  old  lady  you  ever  saw.  She  was  gen 
erally  called,  by  everybody,  "Sister  Nick,"  or  "Old 
Sister  Mck."  She  was  "a  lone  widder  woman," 
she  used  to  say,  and  she  had  several  slaves. 

Her  piety  was  something  awful.  It  was  simply 
overwhelming.  She  had  a  son,  an  only  child,  whom 
she  affectionately  called  "my  little  Jimmie,"  who 
having  been  slightly  wounded  once,  by  pure  acci 
dent,  no  doubt,  for  he  was  not  of  the  kind  to  go 
where  people  get  hurt, — "not  if  I  can  help  it,"  he 
used  to  say, — was  now  on  detail  service,  doing  hos 
pital  guard  duty.  Jimmie  was  a  great  big  six- 
footer,  strong  as  an  ox, — and  had  great  shocks  of 
fiery  red  hair,  heavy  eyebrows, — white  eyelashes, 
and,  keeping  his  mouth  open  constantly,  he  had  a 
startled,  idiotic  appearance;  looked  more  like  an 
astonished  hog  than  anything  I  can  think  of.  He 
173 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

had  freckles  on  his  face  the  size  of  a  dime,,  and 
.great  warts  on  his  hands  that  rattled  like  castinets. 


"The  Lord  will  purvide." 
Sister  Niclt,  the  pious. 

"Oh,  Doctor,  dont  make  fun  of  your  friend  that 
way,"  I  said. 

It's  a  fact,  said  the  Old  Doctor,  and  he  shook 
174 


OLD   SISTER   NICK. 


with  good  natured  mirth  at  the  recollection. 

But  Jimmie  was  "a  good  boy/'  as  his  mother 
often  declared. 

"The  Lord  will  purvide,"  she  used  to  say,  as  she 


Ellen,  the  pieist. 

sat  knitting  socks  for  Jimmie, — she  was  eternally 
knitting, — and  I  reckon  Jimmie  had  as  many  socks 
as  Bud  Zuntz  had  undershirts,  and  like  Bud's 
shirts,  they  were,  as  Ruth  McEnery  Steward  says 
of  them,  "all  Ma-knit."  "Ef  He  will  only  spare  me 
175 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

my  little  Jimmie,  I  will  always  bless  and  sarve 
Him." 

Jimmie  and  I  used  to  go  fishing  together;  good 
fishing  about  Lauderdale ;  tell  you  a  good  one  about 
it  some  day,  if  you  will  remind  me. 

Sister  Nick  was  a  little  pudgy  old  lady  with 
small  gray  watery  eyes,  a  little  dab  of  a  nose  that 
looked  like  it  had  been  stuck  on  after  she  was  built, 
as  an  after  thought ;  thin  brown  hair,  turning  gray, 
parted  in  the  middle,  and  wound  into  a  little  dab 
at  the  back  of  her  head  not  bigger  than  a  hickory 
nut ;  a  watery  mouth  suggestive  of  a  kind  of  a  juici 
ness  not  very  appetizing  to  look  at,  especially  so 
because  of  its  being  always  the  amber  hue  of  snuff, 
which  she  was  never  without.  She  wore  a  faded 
calico  wrapper, — apparently  an  orphan, — the  only 
skirt  she  had  on, — looked  so,  anyhow, — run-down 
slippers, — and  she  had  the  general  appearance  of 
a  bolster  with  a  string  tied  around  it  in  the  middle. 

"Talking  of  good  eating  Sister  Partrick,"  she 
said  one  day  to  Mrs.  Patrick,  my  good  mother-in- 
law, — heaven  rest  her, — she  always  pronounced  it 
"Partrick,"— "talkin'  of  good  eatin7,  Sister  Part- 
rick,  jest  set  me  down  all  by  myself  to  a  good  biled 
hen,  and  Fm  satisfied." 

Ellen,  her  colored  slave,  was  her  mainstay  and 
support.  She  was  a  famous  "pieist,"  if  not  so 
famous  for  piety, — for  Ellen  would  cuss  some 
times, — and  I  dont  blame  her.  Ellen  made  and 
sold  pies  to  the  sick  soldiers, — and  they  had  a  per- 
176 


OLD   SISTEK   NICK. 

feet  mania  for  pies.  We  forbade  the  sale  of  them 
at  the  hospitals;  they, — her  kind,  being  the  most 
diarrhoea-provoking  things  imaginable;  but  the 
men  would  have  them,  and  would  get  them,  all  the 
same.  Rain  or  shine, — frost,  snow  or  blizzard, 
Ellen  had  to  be  at  every  train  that  came  in,  early 
or  late,  to  sell  pies  to  the  soldiers.  "The  Lord  will 
purvide,"  Sister  'Nick  would  say.  "As  long  as  my 
little  Jimmie  is  spared  to  me,  and  Ellen  holds  out 
to  make  pies  for  the  poor  sick  soldiers,  I  hope  we 
wont  starve,  Sister  Partrick,"  and  she  would  spit 
out  about  a  pint  of  snuff  juice. 

"I  puts  my  trust  in  Him,  Sister  Partrick,"  she 
said  often.  She  was  so  pious  she  would  cry;  her 
little  watery  eyes, — always  watery,  would  slop  over 
every  time  she  mentioned  the  Lord's  name;  and 
she  was  so  famous  for  the  quantity  and  quality  of 
her  piety  and  for  Ellen's  dyspeptic  pies,  that  the 
boys  used  to  say  she  had  Ellen  to  sell  pies  at  trie 
morning  trains  to  encourage  "early  piety." 

"Oh,  pshaw,  Doctor, — that's  the  very  worst  pun 
I  ever  did  hear  in  my  life.  I  do  believe  you  made 
up  that  whole  yarn  to  get  off  that  outrageous  pun; 
go  ahead  with  your  story,"  said  I.  And  Hudson 
and  Bennett  did  not  crack  a  smile. 

Humph,  said  the  Doctor;  it's  finished.  You 
dont  know  a  good  thing  when  you  hear  it, — and  he 
gave  me  and  B.  and  H.  a  look  of  ineffable  disgust. 
177 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

WHEN  THE  DOGWOODS  WERE  IN 
BLOOM. 


A  FISH  STORY  WITH  TRIMMIN'S. 

LAUDEBDALE  was  a  big  hospital  post,  there 
being  four  large  hospitals  there,  built  out 
on  the  lovely  pine-clad  hills,  and  built  of 
rough  pine  lumber.     There  were  assembled  there 
quite  a  lot  of  congenial  doctors  and  others,  and  of 
evenings,  around  the  stove  in  the  office  of  some  one 
of  the  hospitals  they  would  assemble  more  or  less, 
ancL  talk. 

The  druggist  at  the  hospital  where  I  was  on  duty 
was  named  Armstead.  By  his  accounts  he  was  a 
tremendous  fisherman.  Oh,  the  trout  he  had 
caught, — and  the  tales  he  could  tell  of  wonderful 
exploits  with  rod  and  fly, — to  say  nothing  of  "wur- 
rums,"  as  he  called  them.  Well,  all  winter  he  was 
talking  of  going  fishing  as  soon  as  the  dogwood 
trees  put  out;  "a  sure  sign,"  he  would  say,  that 
"the  fish  are  biting."  There  was  a  pretty  consid 
erable-size  creek  running  through  these  hills  near 
the  hospitals, — and  in  the  swamps  or  bottoms,  as 
they  were  called,  were  myriads  of  squirrels,  wild 
ducks,  'possums,  'coons,  pigeons  and  even  wild  tur 
keys;  and  further  off,  deer.  Fine  sport  I  used  to 
have  with  the  gun.  Some  other  time  I  will  tell  you 
of  our  make-shift  for  ammunition,  if  you  will  re 
mind  me.  You  must  recollect  that  every  Southern 
178 


WHEN  THE  DOGWOODS  WERE  IN  BLOOM. 

port  being  blockaded,  trade  and  commerce  with  the 
outside  world  was  cut  off,  and  manufactured  goods 
of  every  kind  soon  played  out  throughout  the 
South.  We  were  thrown  on  our  own  resources.  The 
native  cotton  was  spun  and  woven,  and  plain  or 
striped  cotton  cloth, — "homespun,"  was  the  almost 
universal  article  of  feminine  wear.  Of  course,  we 
could  not  buy  powder  and  shot.  Not  a  piece  of 
calico  was  to  be  seen  or  had,  except,  perhaps,  in  the 
larger  cities.  Even  home  made  hats, — home  made 
shoes,  the  ladies  had  to  come  to.  And  I  tell  you 
now,  some  of  those  pretty  "homespun"  dresses,  the 
cotton  dyed  with  the  walnut  bark  or  some  other  in 
digenous  dye,  were  not  to  be  laughed  at.  A  calf 
skin  would  bring  a  big  price, — and  even  cat  skins, 
if  nicely  tanned,  were  in  demand.  I  had  some  sat 
isfaction  in  wearing  a  vest  made  of  the  untanned, — 
hair-on,  pelt  of  a  certain  predatory  Tom  cat  that 
kept  up  a  famine  of  frying-size  chickens  on  my 
premises.  I  remember  that  I  gave  $600  for  a  pair 
of  home  tanned  cow  leather  boots;  and  the  last 
sugar  I  had  before  the  break-up  cost  $80  a  pound. 

But  I  am  away  off;  I  started  to  tell  you  fellers 
a  fish  story,  and  promised  to  tell  you  how  we  made 
shot. 

"Now,  look  here,  Doctor/'  said  Hudson  and  Ben 
nett  at  once;  "we  want  you  to  understand,  we  beg 
to  gently  intimate  that  there  is  a  limit  to  our  cred 
ulity.  Making  shot, — you  know ." 

But,  boys,  I'm  telling  you  the  gospel  truth,  said 
179 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

the  Old  Doctor.,  with  a  hurt  look.  Confederate 
money,  based  on  nothing  whatever  on  this  earth, 
nor  in  heaven,  either,  as  to  that,  got  to  be  so  worth 
less  that  it  hardly  had  any  value,  tho'  you  could 
buy  anything  that  was  for  sale  if  you  had  enough 
of  it ;  but  there  was  no  powder  and  shot,  nor  "store- 
cloze"  for  sale,  I  tell  you.  Why,  I'll  show  you  bills 
I  have  to  this  day, — bills  that  I  have  kept  as  heir 
looms  and  curiosities,  where  I  paid  $10  per  pound 
for  butter,  for  instance,  late  in  the  war;  and  as 
early  as  '63  I  saw  a  soldier  draw  a  month's  pay  and 
immediately  give  it  for  a  dozen  apples.  I  have  bills 
for  bacon  at  $5  per  pound,  and  lard,  ditto.  In 
Covington,  Ga.,  in  1863  (I  forgot  to  tell  you  about 
it  while  I  was  telling  you  other  Covington  experi 
ences),  I  had  occasion  to  amputate  the  leg  for  a 
lad  in  the  country,  the  son  of  a  wealthy  flour  mill 
man.  He  asked  my  bill,  and  I  told  him  that  in 
peace  times  it  would  be  $50.  A  calculation  based 
on  that,  at  the  then  rate  of  discount,  would  make 
it  $2500  in  Confederate  money;  but  that  I  would 
be  glad  if  he  would  let  me  have  its  equivalent  in 
bacon.  I  have  the  bill  for  that  bacon  today ;  it  was 
$5  a  pound. 

But,  my  stars, — I'll  never  get  to  the  fish  story 
at  this  rate,  said  the  Old  Doctor:  I'm  worse  at 
straggling  than  I  was  in  the  ranks.  To  resume 
where  I  broke  off,  tho'  I've  got  another  pretty  good 
one  about  Confederate  prices  if  you  will  just  say 
"Meridian"  some  day. 

180 


WHEN   THE    DOGWOODS   WERE    IN    BLOOM. 

One  day  Armstead  said: 

"Doctor,  spring  is  here;  the  dogwoods  are  in 
bloom, — the  fish  are  biting,  sure." 

"Reckon  they  are,"  said  I. 

"Wish  I  could  get  off  one  day  to  try  'em,"  said  he. 

"I  think  I'll  try  them  tomorrow,"  said  I. 

"Oh, — the  trout, — the  trout  I  used  to  catch/' 
said  he.  "Why,  Doctor ." 

"Oh,  dry  up,  Armstead;  you've  been  telling  me 
trout  yarns  all  winter.  I'll  show  you  something 
tomorrow,"  I  said ;  and  Armstead  drew  a  deep  sigh 
at  the  recollection,  I  reckon,  of  the  fish  he  didn't 
"used  to  catch." 

There  is  a  big  mill  pond  up  the  creek  some  dis 
tance  above  the  hospitals,  and  I  was  sure  there  were 
good  large  trout  in  it.  In  fact,  I  had  been  told  so 
by  the  owner  of  the  mill.  So,  Jimmie  Nick,  as  we 
called  him  (Nichols  was  his  name,  really),  and  I 
went  up  there  next  day.  Below  the  mill  there  was 
a  small  but  deep  hole,  into  which  the  water  fell 
from  the  "sheet"  or  shed,  which  laid  on  a  level  with 
the  surface.  We  had  no  bait  but  red  worms, — first 
rate  perch  bait, — but  we  fished  diligently  up  the 
creek  all  the  way  to  this  hole  under  the  mill,  with 
out  getting  a  nibble. 

While  standing  there  we  noticed  a  bream  (a 
black,  striped  perch,  the  size  of  your  hand;  very 
plentiful  about  Jackson  where  Jimmie  and  I  were 
raised,  and  their  favorite  bait  is  crickets, — those 
little  black- winged  crickets;  you  know  what  crick- 
181 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

ets  are,  surely?)  The  bream  had  "shot"  the  little 
fall,  and  was  floundering  on  the  planks  on  which 
there  was  not  an  inch  of  water. 

I  knew  a  bream  was  a  bream,  at  Lauderdaie  as 
at  Jackson,  and  we  knew  they  would  bite  at  crick 
ets.  So,  Jimmie  and  I  dropped  our  poles,  and  went 
out  into  a  corn  field  near  by,  and  caught  us  a  lot 
of  crickets,  and  returning,  rigged  our  lines  for 
bream.  To  catch  bream  you  have  to  be  very  careful 
of  your  tackle.  They  are  a  wary  fish,  easily  scared 
away.  They  wont  bite  if  they  see  a  line,  so  you 
have  to  have  a  line  that  is  very  slim,  a  small  hook, 
fastened  to  a  snood,  or  piece  of  "cat-gut,"  it  is 
called, — but  it  is  not  cat-gut.  It  is  invisible  in 
water,  and  that  is  the  secret  of  success  in  fishing 
for  them.  Remember  that;  thereby  hangs  a  tale. 

In  a  little  while  Jimmie  and  I  had  rigged  our 
lines,  and  soon  had  caught  a  long  string  of  beauti 
ful  bream.  Then  we  thought  we'd  try  the  trout. 
We  call  them  trout  in  Mississippi,  but  it  is  the 
black  bass  as  we  see  him  in  Texas,  and  they  attain 
a  weight  from  six  to  eight  pounds;  the  usual  size 
is  from  one  to  three  pounds;  three  pounds  is  a 
large  one  in  that  section. 

We  got  a  boat  from  the  mill  man, — got  a  net  also, 
and  going  on  the  pond  above  the  mill,  we  soon  had 
a  lot  of  fine  minnows  or  "roaches"  for  bait;  and 
the  best  luck  you  ever  did  see  we  had  that  day.  I 
got  a  three-pounder,  a  shonuff  big  fellow,  and  a  lot 
182 


WHEN    THE    DOGWOODS   WEKE    IN    BLOOM. 

of  smaller  ones,  none  under  a  pound  and  a  half. 
We  were  proud. 

"Jimmie,"  I  said,  "we'll  make  Armstead  go  off 
and  grieve,  wont  we?  We'll  make  him  bust  wide 
open  with  envy, — for  he's  a  fisherman,  he  is." 

Eeturning  to  the  hospital  I  walked  proudly  into 
the  drug  room  where  Armstead  was  putting  up  pre 
scriptions  behind  the  counter,  with  my  hand  behind 
me,  and  without  a  word  I  just  flopped  my  big  trout 
upon  the  counter  right  under  his  nose,  the  fish  still 
alive  and  kicking.  Oh,  he  was  a  beauty. 

Armstead's  eyes  nearly  popped  out  of  his  head. 
He  sprang  back  in  surprise,  and  exclaimed : 

"Gee  whillikens  ! — what  a — b — i — g  sil — ver 
side  I" 

I  was  too  disgusted  for  utterance.  I  just  walked 
out  without  a  word.  The  fool  didn't  know  a  trout 
when  he  saw  it,  after  all  his  blowing  and  bragging. 
Silver-sides  are  those  little  roaches, — look  like  sar 
dines, — that  we1  use  as  'bait,  to  catch  trout  with. 
*  *  *  * 

Next  day  every  man,  woman  and  child,  negro 
and  dog  in  Lauderdale  was  out  there  at  that  hole 
fishing.  Our  strings  of  bream  and  trout  had  set 
the  village  wild.  Every  vehicle  and  "animule" 
available  was  pressed  into  service,  and  such  an  exo 
dus  to  Moore's  mill  you  never  saw.  The  comman 
dant  of  the  post,  Colonel  Nuckles  (one  leg  off),  and 
his  wife  were  there;  Captain  Catlin,  the  provost 
marshal  (crippled,  of  course,  or  he  wouldn't  have 
183 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

been  on  post  duty, — such  was  the  exigency  of  the 
service;  every  man  able  to  bear  arms  had  to  be  at 
the  front,  I  tell  you).  He  was  there  with  his  wife; 
Surgeon  Kennedy,  the  post  surgeon  and  his  wife; 
oh,  everybody  and  his  wife  and  sister  and  sweet 
heart  was  there.  "Sister  Nick?"  Yes,  she  was 
there,  too,  of  course;  and  all  the  young  ladies, — 
and  that  being  a  refugee  town  there  were  lots  of 
them;  pretty,  too. 

Well,  as  Eeel  Kerr  used  to  say, — they  chunked 
the  fish  with  buckshot.  They  had  every  imaginable 
kind  of  rig; — fish  poles,  corn  stalks,  limbs  of  trees, 
for  rods ;  fish  lines,  cotton  twine,  spool  thread,  car 
penter's  chalk  line,  and  even  clothes  lines  for  lines ; 
and  corks,  and  even  quinine  bottle  stoppers  for 
floats ;  and  buckshot,  nut  screws,  nails,  for  sinkers ; 
liver,  raw  beef,  grub  worms,  toads, — everything  for 
bait  but  the  right  kind, — enough  to  scare  every  fish 
out  of  the  creek. 

Jimmie  and  I  couldn't  get  off  to  go  with  the 
caravan,  but  we  told  them  where  to  fish, — below 
the  mill ;  that  'twa'nt  no  use  wasting  time  anywhere 
else;  that  at  that  season  bream  were  running  up 
stream  to  spawn,  and  not  being  able  to  get  past  the 
mill, — why,  of  course,  that  hole  was  full  of  them. 

About  ten  o'clock  Jimmie  and  I  went  out.  The 
party  had  surrounded  the  hole,  literally.  They 
were  sitting  in  almost  elbow  touch  all  around  the 
hole,  and  poles  and  lines  innumerable  were  dang 
ling  over  the  water, — but, — na-a-rry  a  fish. 
184 


WHEN   THE    DOGWOODS   WERE   IN   BLOOM. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Colonel?  I  thought 
you'd  have  the  frying  pans  going  by  the  time  we 
got  here ;  you  said  you  would,  and  wouldn't  leave  i 
fish  in  the  creek  for  me  and  Jimmie  to  catch  if  we 
didn't  hurry  up  ?"  said  I. 

"Ah,  Doctor,  you  fooled  us.  Aint  no  fish  in  this 
hole, — else  you  caught  'em  all  yesterday,"  said  the 
colonel,  unmindful  of  the  paradox. 

Jimmie  and  I  soon  got  our  rigs  ready,  and  were 
in  the  act  of  putting  a  cricket  on  the  hooks  when 
some  one  exclaimed  excitedly : 

"The  Colonel's  got  a  bite !" 

"Pull  him  out,  Colonel !" 

"Give  him  line,  Colonel !" 

"Dont  let  him  get  the  slack  on  you,  Colonel !" 

"Play  him  awhile,  Colonel !"  was  the  advice 
given  the  colonel  all  at  once.  Every  one  dropped 
his  pole  and  gathered  around  the  colonel  to  see  the 
sport ;  the  colonel  had  been  doing  some  bragging  as 
well  as  Armstead,  and  had  the  reputation  of  being 
a  tremendous  fisherman.  There  was  great  excite 
ment. 

The  colonel  was  cool  and  collected,  and  he  "let 
him  play, — that  is, — he  didn't  pull  "him"  out 
right  away;  that,  he  said,  wasn't  "science."  When 
he  thought  it  would  be  "science"  to  pull  him  out,  he 
said: 

"Xow,  then;  watch  me  land  him.  Get  the  net 
ready,  quick,  and  be  careful, — for  he's  a  whopper !" 
And  bracing  himself,  he  gave  a  pull, — and  out 
185 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

came a  miserable  little  skillipot  terrapin  about 

as  big  as  your  fist. 

Jimmie  and  I  put  on  our  crickets,  and  in  a  few 
minits  had  bream  enough  to  start  the  frying  pan. 
After  dinner  we  cleared  away  a  place  on  the  grass, 
and  such  a  "swing  corners/7  and  such  sparking  and 
flirting  we  did  have,  to  be  sure;  while  old  Dan,  the 
colonel's  colored  carriage  driver,  played  his  fiddle 
with  uncommon  unction. 


§r   §r   §r   ir   §r   ir 

M    »    M    M    M 

CONFEDERATE  STATES  SHOT  FAC 
TORY  (LIMITED-VERY). 


OH,  YES,  said  the  Doctor,— so  I  did;  I  prom 
ised  to  tell  you  how  we  got  ammunition 
for  shooting  squirrels,  etc. 

We  would  get  a  lot  of  minnie  balls,  or  cartridges, 
if  we  just  had  to  have  it, — which  was  generally  the 
case,  the  squirrels  were  so  bad  that  it  was  danger 
ous  to  be  without  powder  and  shot;  I  knew  one  to 
bite  a  feller  once,  who  was  out  of  powder  and  shot. 
It  was,  by  some,  thought  to  be  sinful  to  so  waste 
cartridges, — they  were  to  kill  yankees,  you  know. 
So,  loose  balls  or  bullets,  that  was  different,  were 
the  main  source  of  supply. 

One  would  take  a  piece  of  the  native  pine,  a  piece 
186 


CONFEDERATE  STATES  SHOT  FACTORY. 

of  plank,  about  four  inches  wide  and  sixteen  inches 
long, — but  it  was  not  necessary  to  be  exact  in  these 
measurements, — "any  old"  piece  of  pine  would  do, 
— and  cut  grooves  in  it  lengthwise,  some  five  or  six 
grooves.  Then,  tilting  this  plank  against  the  inside 
of  a  vessel  of  water  so  as  to  make  an  inclined  plane,. 
the  lead  was  placed  on  the  upper  end  of  the  wood, 
and  fire  set  to  the  wood.  A  piece  of  "fat"  pine  was 
selected; — that  is,  a  piece  rich  in  turpentine,  as  it 
would  burn  readily.  Why,  sirs,  "fat  light'ood" 
(light wood),  as  it  is  generally  called  in  the  South, 
was  the  main  source  or  resource,  rather,  for  light, 
after  "  store"  candles  gave  out,  and  especially  far 
in  the  interior.  True,  many  families  made  "tallow 
candles,"  but  many  persons  also  used  lightwood; 
in  fact,  some  old  ladies  I  knew,  said  they  "pre 
ferred"  it  when  they  couldn't  get  the  tallow  to  make 
"dips,"  as  they  were  called. 

The  bullets  would  melt  gradually,  and  the  molten 
lead  would  run  down  the  grooves  and  drop  in  the 
water  in  the  kettle.  Well,  now,  they  were  not 
round, — that's  a  fact;  but  they  were  more  or  less, 
— generally  less, — round,  and  as  the  Johnny  Reb, 
who  was  laughed  at  for  riding  a  calf  on  the  march, 
said,  it  beat  walkin', — so  these  fragments  of  lead 
beat  no  shot  at  all;  and  by  rolling  them  under  a 
flat  iron  we  managed  to  make  pretty  good  shot  of 
them;  good  enough  to  kill  a  turkey  with,  even. 
By-the-bye,  Dan'els,  remind  me  to  tell  you  about 
one  I  did  kill  at  Lauderdale ;  it's  a  good  one,  as  Dr. 
187 


KECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Billy  Yandell,  the  State  Quarantine  Officer  at  El 
Paso,  Texas,  will  testify  ;  he  helped  eat  it. 

No,  —  we  didn't  get  a  patent  on  the  process  of 
making  shot.  We  gave  the  public  the  benefit  of  the 
invention,  and  the  process  came  into  general  use 
wherever  the  blessing  of  fat  light'ood  was  known. 


DR.  YANDELL  AND  THE  TURKEY. 


TELL  you  about  the  turkey,  now?  said  the 
Doctor.     After  a  short  breathing  spell  he 
said:    As  well  now  as  any  other  time.     All 
right. 

Back  of  Dr.  Yandell's  hospital, — that  was  Dr. 
Henry  Yandell  of  Yazoo  county,  Mississippi,  a 
cousin  of  Dr.  Bill  Yandell,  who,  by-the-bye,  was 
only  a  big  "kid"  at  that  time,  an  undergraduate 
in  medicine,  and  was  a  sorter  hospital  steward  or 
something,  at  his  cousin's  hospital, — there  was  a 
swamp,  of  which  I  told  you,  through  which  the 
creek  runs,  and  where  there  was  such  good  hunting. 
One  afternoon  I  took  my  gun,  and  passing  through 
Yandell's  yard,  one  of  the  men  said : 

"Doc,  I  seen  turkeys  down  by  the  bridge  yis- 
tiddy." 

188 


DR.  YANDELL  AND  THE  TURKEY. 

"I'll  go  look  for  them/'  said  I.    "Thanks." 

I  hadn't  gotten  more  than  a  mile  from  the  hos 
pital  before  I  heard  a  turkey,  "put" — "put."  The 
woods  were  very  thick.  Looking  cautiously  thro' 
the  underbrush  I  saw  two  turkeys  on  the  ground, 
with  their  necks  stretched,  looking  scared,  and  as 
if  about  to  fly.  Trembling  with  excitement  (I  had 
what  is  known  amongst  hunters  as  a  "mild  buck- 
ager," — ague),  I  let  drive  with  one  barrel  and 
knocked  over  one  of  the  "turkeys, — the  other  one 
running  off  yelping. 

I  ran  to  my  turkey,  terribly  excited  and  all  over 
of  a  tremble.  The  turkey  was  fluttering  on  the 
ground,  and  I  caught  it,  and  holding  it  up,  dis 
covered, — oh,  holy  horrors ! — that  one  wing  was 
clipped!  The  truth  flashed  on  me  in  an  instant. 
They  were  Dr.  Yandell's  turkeys,  strayed  off  from 
the  hospital.  I  could  understand,  now,  why  the 
other  fellow  didn't  fly,  but  ran  off,  yelpin', — some 
thing  no  well  bred  wild  turkey  was  ever  known  to- 
do. 

I  had  no  idea  of  throwing  it  away.  I  was 
ashamed  to  take  it  to  the  hospital  and  own  up  like 
a  little  man.  No  Sir — reef  In  fact,  I  was  turkey 
hungry,  and  wanted  the  meat.  Turkey  was  turkey 
in  those  days.  So,  I  just  plucked  out  the  cut  quills 
and  buried  them.  The  head  of  a  "tame"  turkey  is 
much  redder, — of  lighter  color  than  that  of  a  wild 
turkey.  This  one,  fortunately  for  me,  was  a  black 
one,  and  looked  very  much  like  a  wild  turkey.  I 
189 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

took  my  knife  out  of  my  pocket,  and  cut  gashes  on 
the  head, — on  the  "wattles,"  as  the  children  call  the 
nodulated  growths  on  a  turkey's  head, — to  let  out 
some  of  the  blood,  so  as  to  make  it  look  sorter  blue, 
—like  a  wild  turkey's  head,  you  know.  I  picked 
her  up  by  the  head,  squeezing  it  so  as  to  aid  the 
blue-ing  process,  and  marched  boldly  through  Dr. 
Yandell's  hospital  yard. 

"Hello!"  said  the  doctor  and  young  Yandell 
(now  "Old"  Yandell).  "You  got  one,  shonuff, 
Doctor?" 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "There  were  about  twenty  (that 
was  a  whopper),  but  I  only  got  one  shot;  they  were 
so  wild." 

Yandell  didn't  notice  the  quills  being  pulled  out ; 
if  any  one  had  said  anything  about  that,  I  had  a 
lie  ready  to  explain  it :  I  was  "going  to  make  pens 
out  of  'em"  (for  you  boys  must  know  that  even  the 
steel  pens  gave  out,  and  we  had  to  fall  back  on  the 
primitive  quill  pens  of  the  daddys.  I  was  taught 
to  write  with  one,  and  I'm  not  a  Methuselah,  how 
ever). 

I  invited  Dr.  Yandell,  Dr.  Seymour  and  young 
Yandell  to  dine  with  me  next  day  and  help  eat  the 
turkey.  It  was  brown  and  savory,  and  quite  fat. 
It  was  served  with  "fixin's,"  and  was  a  real  treat. 
Dr.  Yandell  in  particular,  was  in  ecstacies.  Said 
he: 

"Anybody  who  ever  tasted  wild  turkey  can  recog 
nize  the  superiority,  the  sweetness  of  the  flesh  over 
190 


DR.  YANDELL  AND  THE  TURKEY. 

that  of  a  domestic,  yard-raised,  hand-fed  turkey. 
This  one,  now,  has  a  most  delicious  aroma  of  beech 
nuts, — a  "nutty"  taste,  which  is  characteristic  of 
the  wild  bird.  This  is  delicious,  Doctor;  you  may 
help  me  to  another  piece  of  the  dark  meat,  please. 
We  have  turkey  at  the  hospital,  frequently,  of 
course,"  continued  the  doctor,  between  mouthfuls, 
"but  I  never  eat  it ;  tame  turkey  aint  fit  to  eat,  in 
fact." 

I  was  just  ready  to  burst  with  amusement,  and 
could  with  great  difficulty  keep  my  face  straight; 
but  I  did  it, — looked  as  solemn  as  a  judge,  or  as 
Hudson  there,  does,  when  the  bill  collector  comes 
around.  I  hadn't  even  told  my  wife,  or  I  couldn't, 
for  the  life  of  me,  have  kept  from  laughing ;  it  was 
such  a  good  joke. 

To  this  day  Dr.  Yandell  does  not  know  the  trick  I 
played  on  him,  nor  does  Dr.  Billy.  Seymour  ?  Dead 
I  reckon;  haven't  heard  of  him  since.  Yandell, 
while  one  of  the  jolliest  fellows  in  the  world,  was 
still,  somewhat  touchy, — would  shoot,  as  quick  as 
a  wink,  and  to  tell  you  the  truth  I  was  always 
afraid  to  let  him  know  that  he  had  made  such  an 
ass  of  himself, — doing  all  that  blowing  while  eat 
ing  one  of  his  own  old  hospital  turkey  hens.  It's 
safe,  now ;  he's  in  Mississippi. 
191 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


WISDOM  IN  A  MULTITUDE  OF  COUN 
SEL  (NIT). 


AMONG  the  medical  officers  at  Lauderdale  at 
the  time  I  am  speaking  of,  continued  the 
Old  Doctor,  the  winter  preceding  the 
general  smash-up  of  the  Confederate  States  in 
April,  1865.,  there  was  a  Dr.  Thombus  of  Kentucky, 
a  surgeon.  He  knew  it  all.  He  was  my  senior  by 
about  fifteen  years,  say,  about  forty  years  old.  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  he  reminded  me  more  of  "Tittle 
bat  Titmouse"  (Ten  Thousand  a  Year),  than  any 
one  I  ever  knew.  Like  Tittlebat  T.,  he  used  to 
address  the  young  ladies  as  "gals,"  and  say  "how 
you  was  ?"  He  had  charge  of  a  hospital.,  and  I  had 
only  a  ward,  in  his  hospital.  In  my  ward  the  head 
nurse,  or  ward-master,  was  a  young  man  named 
Newt  Swain  (I  wonder  what  ever  became  of  him? 
I'd  like  to  know).  Newt  was  reading  medicine 
under  my  instruction,  and  he  swore  by  me,  both  as 
a  diagnostician  and  an  operator. 

In  our  ward  was  a  man  who  had  had  a  heavy 
fall  some  years  previously,  striking  on  the  right 
shoulder.  It  gave  him  no  trouble,  for  a  while,  but 
then  the  shoulder  began  to  swell  and  pain  him' 
some  at  times,  and  he  came  to  that  hospital  for 
treatment.  Before  coming  he  had  received  another 
fall,  striking  on  the  same  shoulder.  The  shoulder 
was  greatly  swollen,  the  swelling  extending  up  the 
192 


WISDOM   IN    A   MULTITUDE    OF   COUNSEL. 

neck  till  it  began  to  oppress  his  breathing ;  imping 
ing  on  the  phrenic  nerve. 

This  man  had  been  in  this  hospital  a  long  time, 
the  swelling  being  treated  empirically,  with  iodine 
and  blisters,  without  any  one  ever  having  made  a 
diagnosis.  No  one  knew  just  what  the  trouble  was. 

One  day  I  noticed  that  the  swelling  was  growing 
faster,  and  it  was  beginning  to  interfere  seriously 
with  the  man's  breathing;  he  had  to  take  to  bed. 
I  called  a  consultation  of  all  hands  at  the  post,  some 
fifteen  doctors,  big  and  little,  and  asked  for  an 
opinion  on  the  case  as  to  diagnosis,  and  what  ought 
to  be  done. 

After  all  of  them  had  examined  the  patient,  Dr. 
Thombus  said: 

"It's  a  fatty  tumor,  and  ought  to  be  cut  out,"' 
giving  his  reasons  for  his  diagnosis,  and  "proving 
it/'  he  said,  by  Gross'  Surgery,  a  copy  of  which  he 
produced  and  showed  us.  Furthermore,  Gross  said 
it  ought  to  be  cut  out.  All  the  others  agreed  with 
him,  until  it  came  my  turn,  it  being  my  patient,, 
and  I  being  the  youngest  of  the  party,  I  was  last. 

"What  do  you  think,  Doctor  ?"  said  Thombus  ^o 
me. 

"I  have  no  definite  opinion  as  to  diagnosis,"  said 
I.  "I'm  rather  puzzled  over  the  case;  that's  why 
I  called  you  all.  But  from  the  man's  history,  I 
very  much  suspect  that  it  is  a  diffused  aneurism, 
and  that  capillary  hemorrhage  going  on  in  there 
now,  accounts  for  the  gradual  swelling.  I  feel  quite 
193 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

sure  it's  not  a  fatty  tumor,  and  I  dissent  from  the 
proposition  to  cut  it.  If  you  cut  down  there  (over 
the  scapula),  you'll  get  into  a  bleeding  cavity,  and 
not  be  able  to  reach  the  subcapular  artery  to  tie  it/' 

Thombus  gave  a  horse  guffaw.    He  said : 

"By  the  time  you've  cut  as  much  as  me  and  Yan- 
dell  and  Henson  (naming  nearly  all  the  others), 
you  wont  be  so  scarey  of  the  knife,  young  man," 
attributing  my  dissent  to  timidity  on  my  part,  con 
found  him,  when,  at  that  moment  I  had  probably 
already  done  more  "cuttin',"  than  he  had. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "If  you  will  open  it,  I'll  get  every 
thing  ready  for  you,  as  it  is  my  ward  and  my  pa 
tient,  and  I'll  turn  him  over  to  the  surgeon  in 
charge  (T.),  but  you  must  ex-cuse-me,  if  you  please. 
As  Pontius  Pilate  said  on  a  certain  occasion  I 
need  not  more  specifically  refer  to,  'this  man's 
blood  be  upon  your  heads'  (or  hands,  I've  forgotten 
P.  P's  exact  expression) ;  I'm  going  fishing."  And 
after  clearing  the  deck  for  action,,  as  we  would  say 
now ;  war  phrases  are  on  again ;  that  is,  after  mak 
ing  every  preparation  for  the  operation,  I  lit  out. 

Late  that  afternoon  as  I  came  up  the  road  to  the 
hospital,  my  string  of  perch  swinging  by  my  side, 
I  caught  sight  of  Swain,  my  ward-master  and  stu 
dent,  away  down  at  the  big  gate,  waiting  for  me. 
As  soon  as  I  came  in  sight  he  waved  his  hand  and 
hollered: 

"Aneurism,  by  Jo  !  Man's  dead !" 
194 


A   NIGHT   IN    MERIDIAN. 


A  NIGHT  IN  MERIDIAN. 


WHILE  stationed  at  Lauderdale,  Miss.,  of 
which  I  have  been  telling  you  boys  some 
things,  I  had  occasion  to  -run  down  to 
Meridian,  which,  as  everybody  knows,  is  on  the 
M.  &  0.  Kailroad,  some  thirty  miles  below  Lauder 
dale,  and  is  the  junction  of  the  Southern,  and  some 
other  roads.  Every  Confederate  soldier,  if  not 
everybody  in  the  United  States,  knows  Meridian. 
It  had  the  hardest  name  during  the  war  of  any 
place,  unless  it  be  Andersonville,  Ga.,  the  memor 
able  prison.  By-the-bye;  let  me  digress  here  long 
enough  to  say  that  at  one  time  I  was  ordered  to 
Andersonville  to  take  charge  of  that  ill-fated  prison 
hospital;  and  had  I  gone  I  should  have  suffered 
martyrdom  instead  of  Dr.  Mudd.  It  was  perhaps, 
— nay, — no  doubt,  the  most  fortunate  escape  I  ever 
made,  not  excepting  that  at  Covington.  I  got  off, 
somehow,  I  do  not  now  remember  on  what  pretext. 

I  had  heard  enough  of  the  hotel  at  Meridian  to 
know  that  it  was  the  best  place  in  the  world  to  not 
stop  at.  Where  is  the  Confederate  now  living  who 
had  not  either  been  a  victim  of  "Koom  40,"  or 
heard  tell  of  its  horrors,  by  surviving  sufferers  ? 

The  only  alternative  to  going  to  that  hotel  of 

such  notoriety,  was  to  go  to  a  little  so-called  hotel 

kept  by  an  old  man  named  Dr.  Johnson.    It  was  a 

little  log  house  of  two  rooms  and  a  passage  way  be- 

195 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

tween  them,  to  the  back  of  which  had  been  added 
two  "shed"  rooms,,  which,  including  the  space  cor 
responding  to  the  passage  way,  made  two  longer 
rooms,  one  of  which  was  used  for  the  "dining 
room."  There  was  a  front  gallery,  as  it  is  called 
in  some  places,  "porch"  in  others,  extending  the 
length  of  the  building  in  front,  and  on  each  end  of 
this  gallery  after  the  demand  for  accommodation 
set  in,  a  little  room  was  boarded  'off  with  rough 
lumber.  These  rooms, — if  they  can  be  called  rooms, 
were  the  width  of  the  porch, — say,  eight  feet,  and 
were  eight  feet  in  length;  8x8  feet  ffbed  rooms." 
One  of  these  cells  was  my  bed  room  that  night. 
There  was  no  ceiling  or  plastering;  nothing  be 
tween  me  and  the  outside  world, — the  winter  blasts, 
— except  the  '"weatherboard!  ng,"  the  studding,  or 
uprights,  to  which  it  was  nailed  being  visible  on  the 
inside.  It  was  a  mere  shell ;  there  was  no  ceiling 
overhead.  As  I  lay  in,  or,  rather,  on,  my  bunk,  I 
could  see  the  stars  in  the  sky  through  the  chinks 
and  crannies  of  the  roof. 

It  was  a  dreadful  cold  night,  during  the  winter 
that  preceded  the  general  break-up, — the  winter  of 
1864-5;  the  surrender  took  place  the  following 
April.  By  that  time  Confederate  money  had  gotten 
to  be  almost  worthless,  but  it  was  the  only  cur 
rency, — circulating  medium — we  had.  We  were 
less  fortunate  than  our  friends  in  North  Carolina, 
who,  it  was  said,  used  herrings  for  small  change, 
and  it  was  a  common  thing  to  hear  a  chap  at  a 
196 


A    NIGHT   IN   MERIDIAN. 

"store"  say:  "Mister,  gimme  a  herrin's  wuth  o' 
snuff."  So,  Confederate  script  had  to  go, — at  some 
valuation. 

I  had  to  choose  between  this  lay  out  and  that 
"hotel"  down  town  of  which  so  many  tough  stories 
were  told.  This  "Retreat,"  as  the  proprietor  called 
it  (mind  you,  in  dead  sober  earnest,  he  was),  was 
about  half  a  mile  from  the  business  center, — "far 
from  the  world's  ignoble  strife,"  and  from  the 
"madding  crowd," — for  there  was  most  assuredly 
a  mad  crowd  there,  at  least,  always;  and  the  mad 
dest  of  the  crowd  was  a  fellow  who  having  spent 
the  night  before  in  "Boom  forty"  declared  that  he 
had  had  his  socks  stolen  off  his  feet,  notwithstand 
ing  he  had  gone  to  bed  with  his  boots  on. 

Tell  you  about  room  forty?  You  never  heard 
of  it?  Well,  that's  a  fact;  you  belong  to  the  new 
issue;  Dan' els  has  been  there. 

It  was  called  "room  forty"  because  there  were 
forty  bunks  in  it,  and  it  was  made  to  lodge  forty 
gray-backs.  Soldiers  were  arriving  at  all  times  of 
the  night,  and  after  the  other  rooms  were  filled, 
the  overflow, — and  there  was  always  an  overflow, — 
were  sent  to  room  forty.  The  hotel  was  right  at 
the  depot,  and  was  a  two-story  and  attic  plank 
building  in  a  lamentable  state  of  incompleteness, — 
was  never  finished.  Room  forty  was  the  space  up 
under  the  roof,  between  the  floor  and  which  there 
was  nothing  except  the  rafters,  which  "came 
handy,"  the  proprietor  said,  "to  hang  things  from." 
197 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    A    HEBEL    SURGEON. 

And  as  an  illustration  of  its  utility  there  was  hung 
from  the  center  joist  an  old  smoky  lantern,  and 
some  forgotten  or  abandoned  canteens.  The  floor 
space  to  the  uprights  or  studding  on  each  side, 
and  not  including  the  unavailable  space  under 
the  eaves  of  the  roof;  unavailable,  except  as  a 
repository  of  odds  and  ends  of  rubbish,  and  as  a 
den  for  rats,  cats  and  other  varmints,  was  about 
40x60  feet,  and  on  each  side  of  the  room  and  down 
the  center  were  rough  deal  bunks,  each  with  its 
feather  bed  of  straw  and  two  gray  horse  blankets. 
That  they  were  occupied  by  representatives  of  the 
Cimex  L.  family  as  well  as  by  numerous  pediculi  is 
to  be  understood  as  a  matter  of  course.  Soldiers 
have  told  me  that  some  fellers  knowing  this,  yet 
being  compelled  to  sleep,  would  swig  enough  Meri 
dian  whiskey  to  stupify  themselves,  and  would 
snore  through  the  night  in  defiance  of  the  first 
settlers.  Others,  who  could  not  sleep,  would  play 
cards,  smoke  and  cuss  all  night,,  and  hence  the  aisles 
between  the  rows  of  bunks  were  often  filled  with  a 
rowdy  crowd  of  soldiers.  You  can  readily  under 
stand  the  delights  of  a  night  in  room  forty.  Your 
slumbers  would  be  accompanied  by  a  chorus  of 
snores,  snatches  of  ribald  songs,  coarse  jests  and 
coarser  oaths,  all  seasoned  and  scented  with  the 
fumes  of  villainous  tobacco  smoked  in  old  stinkin' 
pipes, — to  say  nothing  of  the  rumbling,  the  whist 
ling,  the  let-tin'  off  steam  of  numerous  locomotives 
just  beneath  your  bunk.  "Which  is  why  I  remark,'7 
198 


A    NIGHT   IN    MERIDIAN. 

that  hotel  was  the  very  best  place  in  the  world  to 
not  stop  at;  and  that  is  why  I  sought  Dr.  John 
son's  "Ketreat." 

The  "Retreat"  was  situated  on  a  hill  west  of  town 
and  just  at  the  edge  of  the  almost  interminable  pine 
forest  that  stretched  away  for  miles  in  every  direc 
tion.  I  registered, — there  being  some  two  or  three 
other  unfortunates  there,  and  they  had  just  fin 
ished  supper, — finished  it  in  a  literal  sense,  as  I 
will  presently  show.  It  was  the  invariable  rule  at 
that,  and  all  other  "hotels,"  those  times,  to  require 
payment  in  advance.  I  stated  that  it  was  my  wish 
to  have  supper,  lodging  for  the  night,  and  break 
fast.  I  was  told  that  my  bill  would  be  $300,  which 
I  paid,  of  course.  It  would  have  been  the  same  at 
"room  forty,"  and  the  alternative  was, — pay  or 
spend  the  night  out  doors. 

I  was  shown  into  supper.  The  table  was  there, 
and  some  crumbs  of  cawn  bread  the  others  had  not 
eaten;  and  in  a  large  blue  edged  dish  was  a  piece 
of  very  fat  bacon,  about  as  large  as  an  egg,  swim 
ming  in  an  ocean  of  clear  grease, — simply  lard  in 
a  liquid  state.  There  was  a  bottle  of  alleged  mo 
lasses, — it  was  home  made  sorghum  syrup.  These 
dainties,  with  a  cup  of  "coffee"  made  of  parched 
cawn  meal  and  sweetened  with  the  sorghum  syrup, 
was  the  "menu."  (Between  me'n  you  I  didn't  eat 
a  whole  lot.  There  was  nothing  to  eat.) 

So,  like  Jack  in  the  story,  I  retired  supperless 
to — I  had  nearly  told  a  lie;  I  was  going  to  say 
199 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"bed."  I  retired  to  my  room.  It  was  lighted,  or,  it- 
would  be  more  proper  to  say — the  darkness  was 
intensified  by  a  solitary  tallow  candle  (home  made, 
of  course),  about  two  inches  long,  stuck  in  the  neck 
of  an  empty  whiskey  bottle.  This,  the  "landlord/' 
as  all  proprietors  of  "hotels"  in  the  South  are 
called, — I  dont  know  why, — set  up  on  a  little  shelf 
nailed  up  to  the  wall.  I  seated  myself,  after  hav 
ing  received  the  well-meaning  old  gentleman's 
"good  night," — on  the  stool  chair,  the  sole  repre 
sentative  of  the  chair  family  present,  and  it  with 
out  a  back,  and  calmly  surveyed  my  quarters; 
"viewed  the  prospect  o'er."  It  wasn't  "pleasing" ; 
and  "man"  was  not  the  only  thing  that  was  "vile" 
thereabouts. 

The  bed,  which,  with  this  stool,  constituted  the 
entire  equipment,  was  a  bunk  two  and  one-half  feet 
wide,  built  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  of  rough 
scantling.  On  this  was  a  coarse  cotton  sack  filled 
with  straw,  and  a  pillow  of  the  same  soothing  ma 
terials.  There  were  the  inevitable  two  gray  horse 
blankets  for  covering, — no  sheets, — and  so  help  me 
Moses,  this  was  the  lay-out  in  which  I  was  expected 
to  get  $300  worth  of  the  "balmy."  It  was  the 
longest  night  that  ever  was.  I  did  not  undress,  but 
just  laid  down  on  the  bunk  with  clothing,  boots, 
overcoat  and  all  on,  and  drew  the  blankets  over  me. 

By  that  time  my  candle  was  burned  out.  They 
say  "men  love  darkness  because  their  deeds  are 
evil."  "There  are  others"  who  like  darkness,  or 
200 


A    NIGHT   IN    MERIDIAN. 

rather  (as  do  certain  of  the  genus  homo),  take 
advantage  of  it  to  get  in  their  work.  In  Meridian  at 
that  time,  sand-bagging,  garroting  and  similar  pas 
times  were  of  nightly  occurrence.  I  soon  discovered 
that  there  were  "others"  claiming  this  luxurious 
couch;  it  had  been  pre-empted  and  was  held  by  a 
large  colony  of  the  cimex  lectularius  family;  they 
were  there  in  force,  and,  asserting  their  rights,  I 
had  to  vacate, — give  possession.  I  did  so  with 
alacrity  on  the  first  "notice  to  quit."  They  began 
work  on  the  tenderest  parts  of  my  anatomy  the 
moment  the  candle  went  out. 

Having  before  going  up  to  the  "Retreat"  trans 
acted  the  little  business  I  had  to  attend  to,  and 
which  brought  me  to  Meridian,  it  was  my  intention 
to  return  home  on  the  morning  passenger  train 
which  passed  up  usually  at  8  o'clock.  What  to  do 
with  myself  meantime,  was  the  problem  that  con 
fronted  me.  Sleep  was  out  of  the  question.  No 
fire,  no  light,  as  dark  as  Erebus,  and  as  cold  as 
church  charity.  I  had  to  exist  in  some  way  thro' 
the  tedious  hours  of  that  long  cheerless  night.  The 
very  stillness  of  the  small  hours  was  oppressive.  It 
was  broken  at  intervals  by  the  snort  of  some  lodger 
more  thick  skinned  than  I,  and  who  was  evidently 
defying  the  cimex  family,  a  sharp  snort,  with 
which  his  constant  snoring  was  punctuated.  The 
room  was  too  small  to  permit  any  exercise,  and  I 
thought  I  would  freeze. 

Finally,  I  became  so  drowsy,  so  overcome  with 
201 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF    A    HK1JEL    SURGEON. 

the  cold,  that  I  concluded  that  as  the  least  of  two 
evils  I  would  try  the  bunk  again,  more  for  the 
warmth  of  the  blankets  than  in  any  hope  of  sleep. 
I  laid  down  again,  flat  on  my  back,  and  pulled  the 
blankets  up  to  my  chin. 

In  a  short  time  I  was  in  that  strange  condition 
known  as  sleep  waking,  in  which  the  body  is  asleep, 
but  the  mind  is  awake,  though  the  coordination  of 
thought  is  interrupted.  There  was  no  fastening  to 
the  door, — the  only  aperture  to  the  room, — and  I 
went  to  sleep  watching  that  door. 

Presently,  it  seemed  that  something,  something 
horrible  and  undefined  and  undefinable, — entered 
that  door  and  came  and  tried  to  smother  me  with  a 
black  blanket,  or  something,  and  sat  all  over  me, 
literally.  I  didn't  know  what  it  was ;  it  was  some 
thing  black,  and,  you  know  in  dreams  we  are  never 
surprised  at  any  incongruity,  at  anything,  because 
it  always  seems  quite  natural.  I  could  not  get  my 
breath.  I  tried  to  holler  out,  but  I  couldn't.  I 
felt  that  I  would  be  smothered  before  I  could  cry 
out.  It  seemed  tho'  that  I  slid  from  the  bunk  and 
got  to  the  door,  tho'  the  bed  covers  tangled  my  legs, 
and  they  felt  like  they  weighed  a  thousand  pound?, 
and  I  finally  got  out  of  the  door  and  ran,  with 
the  black  thing  pursuing  me  like  an  overgrown 
and  very  ugly  Nemesis.  I  suddenly  found  myself 
going  headforemost  over  the  precipice  of  an  ice 
berg,  that  black  thing  right  after  me.  The  sensa- 
202 


A    NIGHT    IN    MERIDIAN. 

tion  of  falling,,  which  no  doubt  you  fellers  have 
experienced  in  sleep,  aroused  me,  broke  the  spell, 
and  with  a  start  I  sat  up,  throwing  off  of  me  a 
great  gaunt  gray  cat.  It  had  entered  my  boudoir 
from  overhead,  crept  in  on  the  rafters  with  which 
the  overhead  was  ornamented,  and  dropping  down 
noiselessly  on  my  bunk,  was  calmly  sitting  on  my 
chest  looking  at  me.  Ugh !  As  T  threw  him,  her 
or  it  off,  I  dont  know  which  was  the  worst  scared, 
the  cat  or  yours  truly.  As  he,  she  or  it  crouched  in 
the  corner  its  eyes  shown  like  the  headlights  of  two 
locomotives.  I  opened  the  door,  and  striking  a 
match,  ran  the  cat  out. 

The  prisoner  of  Chilon  turned  gray  in  a  single 
night; — no,  I  believe  he  said  "my  hair  is  gray,  but 
not  with  years,  nor  turned  it  white  in  a  single 
night/'  However,  be  that  as  it  may,  I  think  I 
turned  blue,  black,  green,  grey  and  yellow  by  turns 
that  night.  Its  horrors  will  live  in  my  memory  as 
long  as  memory  lasts. 

I  still  couldn't  get  my  breath,  notwithstanding 
the  nightmare  was  gone.  The  blood  all  seemed  to 
be  centered  at  my  heart,  and  I  was  nearly  frozen. 
I  swung  my  arms,  stamped  my  feet,  and  beat  my 
chest  to  see  if  I  couldn't  start  the  sluggish  blood. 
I  was  afraid  to  go  out  doors  and  run ;  even  if  there 
had  not  been  the  danger  of  my  freezing,  and  as 
said,  inside  the  room  there  was  not  space  enough  to 
even  walk  about. 

203 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

"Eagerly  I  wished  the  morrow; 
Vainly  I  sought  to  borrow 
From  my  (pipe)  surcease  from  sorrow." 

Narry  morrow, — narry  borrow.  Luckily  I  had  a. 
supply  of  smoking  tobacco  and  some  matches,  and 
I  just  sat  bolt  upright  on  that  backless  chair  all 
night  and  smoked  my  pipe.  I  thought  of  every 
thing  mean  I  had  ever  done,  and  wondered  if  hell 
wasn't  something  like  this, — cold,  instead  of  hot, 
and  where  you  have  nightmare,  with  cats  perched 
on  your  thorax.  If  not,  L  should  have  liked  to 
make  the  exchange  then  and  there. 

Byrne-bye,  away  along  yonder  when  Orion  had 
dipped  below  the  horizon,  and  the  Little  Dipper 
was  getting  ready  to  dip ;  when  the  stars  generally, 
preparatory  to  going  off  duty,  were  extinguishing 
their  little  lamps  and  had  suspended  the  twinklin' 
business, — realizing  that  the  sun  was  coming,  and 
that  they  couldn't  "hold  a  light"  to  him ;  when  the 
first  streaks  of  gray  made  their  appearance  in  the 
east,  I  heard  a  lonesome  rooster  crow, — away  over 
yonder.  I  heard  the  big  shanghai  next  door  answer 
his  challenge,  going  him  considerable  '"better"  on 
the  final  syllable  of  his  remarks.  I  heard  a  belated 
owl  hoot,  from  the  bosom  of  the  adjacent  thicket. 
I  heard  the  frantic  scream  of  a  coming  engine, 
coming  as  if  it  were  in  a  hurry  to  get  in  out  of  the 
cold.  I  could  almost,  in  the  mind's  eye, — see  it  blow 
in  its  hands  to  keep  them  warm,  as  you  have  seen 
204 


A    NIGHT   IN   MERIDIAN. 

school  boys  do  on  a  frosty  morning.    It  was  an  up- 
train;  going  my  way. 

Ah,  to  the  frozen,  famished  Greely  party  on  their 
monopoly  of  ice,  the  sound  of  the  steam  whistle  of 
the  rescue  ship  was  not  more  welcome  than  was  that 
screamin'  locomotive,  running  like  a  scared  wolf, 
to  my  anxious  ears.  Not  to  the  besieged  at  Luck- 
now  was  the  "pibroch's  shrill  note,"  announcing  the 
coming  of  Campbell  with  the  camels,  more  welcome 
than  was  that  same  screamer,  screaming  as  she 
approached  Meridian,  to  yours  truly.  It  was  to 
carry  me  away  from  Meridian,  from  the  scenes  of 
that  dreadful  night. 

By  the  time  the  train  had  arrived  at  the  station 
I  was  there,  and  was  soon  snugly  seated  by  the 
stove  in  the  conductor's  caboose  (it  was  a  freight 
train),  thawing  and  thinking.  In  an  hour  I  was 
telling  my  wife  the  adventures  over  a  cup  of  sho- 
nuff  coffee,  and  smoking  waffles  weltering  in  fresh 
butter. 

I  shall  never  forget  Dr.  Johnson's  "Ketreat," 
nor  the  hotel  bill.  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  the  cham 
pion  hotel  bill  of  all  creation,  the  biggest  one  on 
record  for  a  night's  lodging  (alleged).  I  arrived 
after  supper,  sat  up  all  night,  and  left  before  break 
fast,  and  paid  $300. 

205 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


A  CHAPTER  FOR  DOCTORS, 


SUKG-EKY  during  the  war  was  a  very  differ 
ent  thing  from  what  it  is  now,  said  the  Old 
Doctor,  leaning  back  in  my  editorial  chair, 
with  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  vest,  and 
with  a  dignified  expression  on  his  usually  jolly 
countenance,  as  if  to  say,  "Fm  going  to  talk  sense 
now."  For,  even  at  the  best,  with  the  best  appli 
ances,  you  know  that  it  was  practiced  upon  an 
entirely  different  theory.  It  was  before  anything 
whatever  was  known  of  the  "germ-pathology."  It 
was  believed  that  suppuration  was  necessary  to 
healing  by  second  intention,  and  as  healing  by  first 
intention  could  not  be  hoped  for  in  larger  wounds, 
and  rarely  in  gunshot  wounds  at  all,  the  aim  of  the 
surgeon  was  to  promote  suppuration  as  rapidly  as 
possible ;  and  the  appearance,  on  the  third  or  fourth 
day,  of  a  creamy  pus  was  hailed  with  satisfaction. 
It  was  called  "laudable  pus"  (which  clearly  enough 
indicates  what  was  thought  of  it).  To  that  end, 
hot  cloths  were  applied, — cloths  wetted  in  hot  water, 
and  even  in  some  instances,  poultices. 

I  should  state,  however,  that  notwithstanding 
what  I  have  said,  it  was  routine  practice  after  an 
operation,  large  or  small,  to  put  on  "wet  com 
presses,"  cold  dressings,  and  to  fix  a  tin  cup  over 
the  wound,  filled  with  cold  water, — and  a  cotton 
thread  led  the  water  to  fall,  drop  by  drop  on  the 
206 


A    CHAPTER   FOR   DOCTORS. 

wound.  It  was  only  in  the  larger  cities  that  ice 
could  be  had.  I  suppose  the  theory  was,  that  cold 
would  keep  down  excessive  inflammation.  When 
suppuration  began  the  dressings  were  changed  to 
warm  applications  to  promote  it. 

In  light  of  our  present  knowledge  does  it  not  look 
ridiculous?  The  intentional,,  though  unconscious 
propagation  of  millions  of  pathogenic  "germs/'- 
the  prevention  of  which  is  the  great  object  now,  and 
constitutes  the  greatest  triumph  of  the  surgical 
art  in  the  century !  Think  of  the  thousands  of 
precious  lives  that  could  have  been  saved  if  Lister's 
great  work  had  come  fifty  years  sooner. 

Experience  soon  demonstrated  that  a  gunshot 
wound  of  any  joint  was  almost  invariably  fatal, — 
and  even  a  gunshot  fracture  of  the  femur  by  the 
methods  of  treatment,  was  so  nearly  always  at 
tended  with  fatal  results  that  it  became,  early  in 
the  war,  the  rule  to  amputate  for  both;  and  that 
primary  operation  gave  the  best  chances  for  recov 
er}*;  that  is,  amputation  as  soon  after  the  wound 
was  made  as  possible.  Think  of  the  thousands  of 
limbs  that  were  sacrificed  that  could,  under  modern 
methods,  have  been  easily  saved.  And,  as  to 
bruised,  "contused"  or  lacerated  fractures,  not  a 
moment  was  wasted,  but  amputation  was  at  once 
done.  How  many  thousand  lives  were  lost  through 
ignorance,  want  of  experience,  want  of  skill,  want 
of  suitable  appliances  will,  of  course,  never  be 
known.  I,  myself,  once  performed  an  amputation 
207 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

with  a  pocket  knife  and  a  common  saw.  But  for 
the  most  part  the  Confederate  surgeons  had  instru 
ments,  such  as  they  were ;  and  it  was  a  work  of  love 
with  the  women  of  the  South  to  make  bandages 
and  lint.  They  often  stripped  their  families  and 
their  households  of  sheets,  spreads,  and  even  skirts 
in  order  to  supply  bandages  and  lint  to  the  hos 
pitals.  For  the  most  part  the  women  regarded  the 
cause  as  holy,  or  next  to  holy,  and  they  stopped  at 
no  sacrifice  of  personal  possessions  or  comfort. 

Hospital  gangrene  and  erysipelas  were  the  great 
scourges  of  the  hospitals,  and  carried  off  more  sol 
diers,  I  dare  say,  than  yankee  bullets  did.  We  knew 
nothing,  as  I  told  you,  of  germ  causation,  and  there 
fore  nothing  of  germicides  and  antiseptics.  The 
treatment  was  altogether  empirical.  I  remember, 
somebody  said  that  sulphide  of  lead  was  a  sovereign 
application  for  hospital  gangrene.  It  was  not 
stated  upon  what  principle  it  was  supposed  to  act ; 
but  was  just  '"good  for"  gangrene.  I  can  recall 
now,  the  zeal  with  which  most  surgeons  took  hold 
of  the  new  treatment,  and  we  had  to  extemporize 
the  remedy.  I  see  now,  the  crude  iron  pot  in  which 
a  lot  of  minnie  balls  are  being  melted.  When 
melted,  flour  of  sulphur  was  industriously  stirred 
in  until  the  mixture  became  of  the  proper  consist 
ency, — and  when  cool,  it  was  a  gray-black  powder. 
This  was  liberally  sprinkled  on  the  wound;  most 
often  the  wound  was  filled  with  it.  I  do  not  re 
member  that  I  ever  knew  it  to  do  any  good.  In 
208 


A   CHAPTER   FOR   DOCTORS. 

this  connection  I  recall  an  experience  that  I  shall 
never  forget. 

As  officer  of  the  day  I  had  to  sleep  at  the  hospital 
a  certain  night.  Gangrene  was  amongst  the 
wounded.  There  was  a  boy  whose  wound,  in  the 
center  of  the  left  hand, — of  course  making  a  com 
pound  fracture  of  the  metacarpal  bones, — was  at 
tacked  with  gangrene.  It  was  being  treated  by  the 
method  in  vogue,  when  that  night  an  artery, — the 
palmar  arch,  sprang  a  leak ;  that  is,  hemorrhage  set 
in.  The  nurse  called  me,  and  by  the  light  of  a 
single  smoky  coal  oil  lamp^  and  with  the  assistance 
of  a  very  stupid  and  sleepy  nurse, — one  of  the  con 
valescent  soldiers,  I  had  to  amputate  the  hand. 
What  is  worse,  for  some  reason  not  now  recalled, 
the  instruments  were  either  out  of  place  or  locked 
up,  or  at  any  rate  were  not  available,  and  I  did  the 
operation  with  the  contents  of  a  small  pocket  case 
and  the  saw  that  belonged  to  the  carpenter,  while 
my  assistant  held  the  lamp. 

Think  of  the  situation,  ye  up-to-date  surgeons. 
T  administered  the  chloroform,  and  had  one  eye  on 
his  respiration,  while  with  the  other  eye,  I  directed 
as  best  I  could  the  cutting  process  and  the  ligating 
of  the  arteries.  The  boy  recovered;  but  the  surgeon 
in  charge, — it  was  Dr.  Charles  E.  Michelle,  still 
living,  I  believe,  in  St.  Louis,  gave  me  hail  Colum 
bia  for  not  saving  that  boy's  hand,  or,  at  least,  sav 
ing  the  little  finger  and  the  thumb ;  and  he  demon 
strated  to  me  (I  was  but  a  kid  in  years,  remember, 
209 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  EEBEL  SURGEON. 

tho7  a  surgeon  of  rank  with  him  and  the  best  of 
them;  I  was  24),  and  demonstrated  to  the  assem 
bled  wisdom  of  the  hospital  how  nicely  the  little 
finger  and  the  thumb  might  have  been  saved,  and 
what  a  comfort  they  would  have  been  to  the  boy  in 
after  years  in  picking  cotton,  for  instance.  (He 
did  not  say  "picking  cotton";  that's  a  "volun 
tary.")  I  had  kept  the  hand  for  his  inspection,  and 
"hail  Columbia"  was  what  I  .got. 

RECOLLECTION  OF  HAWTHORN. 

You  all  knew  Professor  Frank  Hawthorn  of  the 
University  of  Louisiana,  of  course,  continued  the 
Doctor, — after  resting  a  little  from  the  above  reci 
tation.  Speaking  of  that  case  reminds  me  of  an 
experience  of  his.  He  had  a  case  with  hemorrhage 
adjuncts.  His  man  had  been  shot  through  the 
flesh  in  the  bend  of  the  elbow,  but  the  artery  had 
not  been  cut.  Secondary  hemorrhage  set  in,  how 
ever,  and  as  a  lot  of  the  big  surgeons  (he  wasn't  a 
very  big  one  then,  but  he  got  to  be,  later),  were  at 
that  post,  inspecting  and  operating,  Hawthorn  pu;: 
on  a  tournequet  and  controlled  the  bleeding  till  he 
could  have  them  see  the  case  and  advise  what  was 
best  to  do.  There  were  Dr.  Ford,  Medical  Director 
of  the  army;  Dr.  Stout,  medical  director  of  hospi 
tals;  Dr.  Pirn,  Dr.  Saunders  (now  of  Memphis), 
and  others.  Hawthorn  showed  the  case  and  said: 

"What  is  the  best  to  do?"  turning  to  Medical 
Director  Ford. 

210 


A   CHAPTER   FOR   DOCTORS. 

"Well,  I  dont  know,  er — rer;  what  say,  Stout?" 

"Well,  I  dont  know;  er — rer;  what  say,  Saun- 
ders?" 

"Well,  I  dont  know ;  what  say,  Pirn  ?" 

Hawthorn  got  impatient,  and  picking  up.  a  bis 
toury  said : 

"Here's  what  7  say  do" :  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  laying  the  wound  wide  open  at  one  sweep, 
and  taking  up  the  ends  of  the  artery,  had  a  liga 
ture  around  it  quicker  than  a  wink. 

This  party  of  big  surgeons  came  to  the  hospital 
where  I  was  stationed.  All  the  wounded  that  were 
thought  subjects  for  operation  were  brought  out 
one  at  a  time,  under  the  shade  of  the  trees  in  the 
beautiful  yard  of  the  Hill  hospital  at  Covington, 
for  examination  and  operation,  or  otherwise,  as  de 
cided  by  this  tribunal. 

Amongst  those  brought  out  on  this  occasion  was 
a  large  Swede,  who  had  received  a  gunshot  fracture 
of  the  radius  near  the  wrist.  The  question  was,  to 
resect  (it  was  called  "resect,"  tho'  "exsect"  seems 
to  me  would  be  more  proper)  ;  that  is,  cut  out  the 
jagged  ends  of  the  bone,  or  to  let  it  alone.  It  was 
decided  to  saw  off  the  ends  of  the  bone,  of  course. 

The  man  was  put  on  the  table,  but  before  chloro 
form  was  given,  he  said : 

"Gentlemen,  have  I  any  say-so  about  this  opera 
tion?" 

"Why,  certainly,"  replied  several  of  the  boss  sur 
geons. 

211 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

The  man  looked  around  at  each  face  in  turn, 
then  pointing  to  me, — the  only  beardless  one  in  the 
lot,  and  looking  like  a  kid,  he  said : 

"There's  the  man  I  want  to  do  the  cutting  on  my 
arm." 

I  did  the  operation  like  a  little  man,  and  my 
grateful  Swede  made  a  splendid  recovery. 

But  I  have  digressed.  I  was  telling  you  of  Haw 
thorn. 

Hawthorn  went  out  as  n  private  soldier  in  the 
10th  Alabama  infantry  when  he  was  a  fresh  grad 
uate  of  medicine.  His  regiment  was  at  Pensacola. 
One  of  his  company  got  shot  through  the  foot,  and 
all  the  surgeons  were  absent,  fishing,  it  was  said. 
Some  one  said:  "Hawthorn,  in  this  man's  com 
pany,,  is  a  doctor, — get  him !"  They  got  him.  He 
cut  down  and  tied  the  posterior  tibial  artery, — the 
correct  thing  to  do, — and  when  the  surgeon  re 
turned, — it  was  Dr.  Ford, — a  little  later,  the  med 
ical  director  I  have  been  speaking  of, — he  asked 
who  had  done  that  operation  ?  saying  it  was  a  neat 
operation,  and  a  creditable  job.  He  was  told  that 
the  operator  was  Private  Hawthorn  of  the  10th 
Alabama.  Dr.  Ford  immediately  appointed  him 
assistant  surgeon,  and  a  little  later  he  passed  exam 
ination  and  was  made  surgeon,  and  soon  became 
known  throughout  the  army  as  one  of  the  ablest 
surgeons  we  had. 

I  want  to  record  here,  while  I  think  of  it,  what 
has  always  seemed  a  very  remarkable  fact;  it  is 
212 


A   CHAPTER   FOR   DOCTORS. 

this :  The  Confederate  surgeons  were  handicapped 
in  many  ways.  We  were  short  on  chloroform,  and 
had  to  use  it  as  economically  as  possible, — we  had 
none  to  waste.  We  had  to  use  such  as  we  could  get 
and  could  not  be  choice  as  to  quality.  We  couldn't 
specify  that  it  was  to  be  "Squibb's."  Some  that  we 
used  I  know  was  adulterated.  I  remember  a  lot 
that  smelled  like  turpentine.  Well,  sirs,  I  want  to 
tell  you  now,  that  I  administered  chloroform  and 
had  it  administered  for  me  many  scores  of  times,, 
for  all  manner  of  operations  and  on  all  sizes  and 
ages  and  conditions  of  men,  and  I  never  had  a  seri 
ous  accident, — never  a  death  from  chloroform,  nor 
had  a  man  to  die  on  the  table  during  my  whole 
experience  as  a  surgeon  during  the  war.  I  do  think 
it  remarkable,  when  I  recall  the  perfect  abandon, — 
the  almost  reckless  manner  in  which  it  was  given 
to  every  patient  put  on  the  table,  almost  without 
examination  of  lungs  or  heart  and  without  inquiry. 
I  can  only  attribute  it  in  part  to  the  fact  that  it 
was  given  freely, — boldly  pushed  to  surgical  anes 
thesia,  and  no  attempt  was  made  to  cut  till  the 
patient  was  limber. 

Nathan  Smith's  wire  splint  was  a  blessing  to  the 
Confederate  surgeons, — a  refuge,  and  a  tower  of 
strength.  It  is  so  simple,  so  easily  and  quickly 
made,  so  cheap,  and  so  easily  adapted  to  almost 
every  fracture  that  it  was  generally  used.  We  had 
no  ready  made  splints,  such  as  are  on  sale  now 
everywhere.  We  made  our  own  splints. 
213 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Before  the  war  pneumonia  was,  in  the  South, 
nearly  always  of  the  sthenic  type,  and  the  lancet 
and  antimony  were  the  sheet  anchors  of  treatment, 
followed  by  quinine,,  as  the  disease  was  most  rife 
in  malarial  sections.  The  disease  not  only  stood 
depleting,  but  demanded  it.  Naturally,  when  we 
first  encountered  pneumonia  in  the  hospitals  the 
customary  treatment  was  instituted.  It  was  ex 
ceedingly  fatal,  and  it  was  soon  seen  that  from  the 
inception  a  sustaining  treatment  was  demanded, 
and  was  found  to  be  successful.  That  is,  brandy 
(or  whiskey  if  brandy  could  not  be  had),  and 
opium  and  quinine  became  the  standard.  The  dis 
ease  seemed  to  have  entirely  changed  its  form;  be 
came  asthenic, — and  the  Surgeon-General,  Dr.  S. 
P.  Moore,  actually  issued  orders  prohibiting  the  use 
of  antimony  or  the  lancet,  and  I  am  not  sure  it  did 
not  include  veratrum. 

Well,  sirs, — when  we  returned  to  civil  practice 
naturally  we  followed  the  stimulating  plan,  brandy 
and  opium,  only  to  find  that  in  many  cases  it  was 
disappointing,  and  hence  there  was  a  revival  in  the 
South  of  the  lancet  to  quite  a  considerable  extent, — 
and  that  the  disease  in  private  life  was  again  of 
the  robust  or  sthenic  form.  I  remember  following 
the  stimulating  treatment  and  seeing  others. do  it, 
and  I  can  look  back  now  and  realize  that  many 
patients  were  actually  killed  by  whiskey  pushed  too 
far. 

You  can  readily  understand  that  drugs  and  med- 
214 


A    CHAPTER    FOR   DOCTORS. 

icines,  being  what  was  called  "contraband  of  war/' 
soon  became  scarce  and  high  priced.  We  were  very 
soon  thrown  on  our  native  resources,  and  had  to 
make  use  of  the  valuable  indigenous  plants,  with 
which  the  South  abounds.  Practicing  medicine  in 
the  army  was  not  like  it  is  now ;  now,,  it  is  almost  a 
luxury.  A  Dr.  Porcher,  of  South  Carolina,  issued 
a  book  of  the  medicinal  plants  of  the  South,  and 
it  became  a  text  book.  The  surgeons  would  send 
the  convalescents  to  the  woods  to  get  willow  bark, 
oak  bark,  black-berry  root,  dew-berry  root,  sassafras 
bark,  scull-cap  root,  etc.,  and  the  bark  of  the  slip 
pery-elm  tree  was  a  blessing;  we  made  poultices  of 
it.  Oh,  the  poor  soldiers  hadn't  much  of  a  chance 
in  the  hospitals,  compared  to  those  of  the  Federal 
army,  whose  surgeons  had  every  necessary  adjunct 
for  the  skillful  practice  of  medicine  and  surgery. 
Think  of  treating  the  long  fevers  and  the  amputa 
tions,  in  the  long  hot  summer  months  without  ice. 
The  mortality  was  fearful  at  best. 

But,  boys,  I  have  violated  my  principles  and  the 
principles  of  my  Eetroscope  in  indulging  in  the 
gloomy  reflections  of  the  last  hour, — but  I  promise 
you  I  will  not  do  so  again.  I  did  it  because  I  have 
been  telling  you  fellows  so  many  funny  and  ridicu 
lous  recollections  that  I  fear  I  have  conveyed  but  a 
feeble  idea  of  what  a  hospital  surgeon's  life  was 
during  those  terrible  times. 

Moreover  we  lived  under  the  most  absolute  tyran 
ny  that  ever  existed.  The  conscript  officers  were 
215 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

everywhere,,  and  guards  on  the  lookout  for  strag 
glers  and  deserters,  and  even  an  officer  on  leave  of 
absence  had  to  be  very  securely  armed  with  the 
proper  kind  of  papers  to  go  anywhere.  I  was  on 
a  train  once  and  saw  the  conscript  officers  take  off 
to  camp  a  man  who  was  beyond  the  then  conscript 
age,  because  he  did  not  have  satisfactory  papers; 
and  a  man  without  them  was  arrested  wherever 
found,  and  had  to  give  a  good  account  of  himself, 
else  a  gun  was  put  into  his  hands  and  he  was  sent 
off  to  camp,  even  if  he  had  come  to  town  to  sell 
a  load  of  wood  to  get  bread  for  his  family.  I  saw 
such  an  arrest  made  once,  and  the  poor  devil's 
wagon  and  team  and  load  of  wood  were  left  stand 
ing  in  the  street. 

I  procured  leave  of  absence  once,  and  went  home. 
The  first  thing  on  arrival  was  to  get  a  permit  to 
pass  unmolested  throughout  the  county.  If  I  went 
out  of  town  a  mile  on  any  road  I  was  halted  and 
made  to  show  my  papers  at  every  forks  of  the  road. 

But,  upon  the  whole,  I  am  glad  I  lived  in  war 
times.  I  trust  to  God  that  I  may  not  live  to  see 
another  war, — but  I  am  glad  to  have  been  through 
that  one,  and  to  have  seen  and  experienced  what  I 
did.  First,  I  had  a  taste  of  a  private's  hardships, — 
and  I  tell  you  it  was  play,  then,  to  what  it  became 
later;  and  I  shall  never  cease  to  wonder  how  the 
boys  stood  it,  and  what  it  was  that  kept  up  their 
courage  to  such  a  wonderful  degree, — for  it  is  ad 
mitted  that  seldom  in  the  history  of  the  world, 
216 


IN    THE   LAND   OF   THE    BLUE    DOG. 

since  the  days  of  Sparta  and  Troy,  perhaps,  has 
such  undaunted  courage  been  seen  in  the  face  of 
untold  dangers  and  hardships.  But,  boys,  I'm  done. 
Good  bye. 


IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  BLUE  DOG. 


A  LONESOME  RIDE. 

SAID  the  Old  Doctor,  taking  his  usual  seat: 
Just  after  the  war,  when  I  was  practicing 
medicine  at  Jackson,  the  capital  of  Missis 
sippi,  the  home  of  my  earlier  days,  I  was  requested 
by  letter  to  go  to  one  of  the  extreme  eastern  coun 
ties  to  see  a  case  with  a  view  to  a  surgical  operation. 
The  eastern  counties  are,  as  I  once  told  you,  for 
the  most  part,  piney  woods,  heavy  sandy  lands,  no 
soil  to  speak  of,  except  here  and  there  where  a  creek 
or  "branch"  meanders  through.    These  little  creek 
bottoms,  as  they  are  called,  afford  at  intervals  little 
patches  of  tillable  soil,  and  you  will  come  across,  at 
long  intervals,  a  cabin,  with  its  household  of  white 
headed  children,  and  a  yellow  dog, — or  a  blue  one, 
most  likely;  and  near  by,  a  small  clearing,  fenced 
in  by  brush,  interwoven  so  as  to  even  turn  a  rabbit, 
in  which  enclosure  you  will  see  a  little  crop  of 
217 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

stunted  yellow  corn,  or  a  patch  of  bumble-bee  cot 
ton . 

"What  is  'bumble-bee'  cotton,  Doctor?"  said 
Hudson. 

You  are  a  greeny,  shonuff.  Daniels  knows.  It's 
cotton  that  a  bumble-bee  can  suck  the  top  blossoms 
standing  flat  footed  on  the  ground,  said  the  Old 
Doctor,  nearly  strangling, — he  laughed  so  hard  at 
Hudson's  unsophistication,  and  presently  resumed 
his  narrative. 

The  country  is,  of  course,  very  sparsely  settled 
off  of  the  line  of  railroad,  and  mostly  by  the  poorer 
classes, — "tackeys,"  "po'  white  trash,"  the  negroes 
call  them.  Now  and  then  there  is  a  more  preten 
tious  farm,  and  a  fairly  well  to  do  family ;  such  an 
one  as  I  was  now  on  my  way  to  visit.  The  stretches 
of  pine  trees  and  sand  are  interminable,  and  some 
times  in  a  day's  ride  you  will  not  see  a  living  soul 
nor  a  sign  of  habitation ;  and  they  do  say  that  when 
a  jay  bird,  or  a  crow,  has  occasion  to  fly  over,  say, — 
Jasper  county,  for  instance,  if  he  is  an  experienced 
traveler  or  a  close  observer  of  events,  or  if  he  takes 
the  papers,  he  always  carries  along  a  little  sack  of 
shelled  corn. 

In  that  section  of  country  they  have  two  or  three 
names  for  a  postoffice  settlement;  for  instance, 
Damascus  the  natives  call  "Sebastopol" ;  Fairfield 
is  "Bucksnort,"  etc.  This  I  learned  on  the  trip,  as 
I  will  presently  tell  you. 

Arriving  at  the  nearest  railroad  station,  I  hired 
218 


IN    THE    LAND    OF    THE    BLUE    DOG. 

a  double  team,  and  getting  my  directions  to  Mr. 
Garretf  s,  near  Damascus,  I  lit  out  for  a  thirty- 
mile  ride,  all  b}^  my  lonesome.  It  was  early  fall ;  a 
gloomy  day;  the  skies  were  overcast,  and  the  pines 
were  soughing,  as  they  do  at  the  approach  of  rain. 
Oh.  it's  the  lonesomest  feeling  imaginable.  I  rode 
and  rode,  mile  after  mile,  through  an  unbroken 
monotony  of  those  stately  columns  of  long  leaf  pine 
and  sand.  Not  a  living  thing  did  I  see  except  a 
buzzard,  and  he  had  evidently  neglected  to  carry 
the  essential  bag  of  corn,  and  had  fallen  exhausted 
by  the  roadside  before  he  had  crossed  the  desert. 

By-and-bye,  away  towards  sunset,  my  eyes  were 
gladdened  by  the  sight  of  a  clearing.  There  was 
the  little  patch  of  yellow  stunted  corn,  burnt  up  by 
the  drought  and  the  sun,  and  a  little  patch  of  bum 
ble-bee  cotton,  and  a  rank  growth  of  gourd  vines  on 
the  fence  of  what  had  evidently  been  attempted  for 
a  vegetable  garden  and  abandoned  in  despair. 
There  had  been  a  rail  fence  around  the  house  once, 
but  it  was  down  and  scattered ;  the  yard  was  littered 
with  paper  and  trash,  and  the  house,  which  was  a 
one-room  log  cabin,  with  a  dirt-and-stick  chimney, 
was  closed,  and  looked  deserted.  The  lethean  still 
ness,  stirred, — not  broken, — by  the  funeral  sough 
ing  and  sighing  of  the  pines,  dying  away  in  the 
bosom  of  the  interminable  forest,  like  the  wail  of 
some  lost  spirit,  was  only  accentuated  by  the  rap 
ping  of  a  red-headed  woodpecker  on  the  sonorous 
boards  of  the  gable.  My  heart  sank  within  me.  I 
219 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

thought  I'd  make  one  effort,  any  way ;  so  I  hailed : 

"Hello !" 

No  reply. 

"Hello!!"  said  I,  louder. 

Thereupon  a  blue  and  white  hound  dog,  of  the 
flop-eared  species,  crawled  out  from  under  the 
cabin,  and  putting  all  four  feet  together,  humped 
his  back, — gaped, — protruding  a  long,  pointed 
tongue,  turned  up  at  the  end  like  a  hook,  yawned, 
thus  giving  himself  a  good  stretch,  lazily  remarked : 

"Brew-er-er-er-erh  I" — something  between  a  howl 
and  a  bark,  curling  it  up  at  the  end  with  a  rising 
inflection  on  the  last  syllable. 

"Hello ! !"  said  I  again,  louder. 

The  door  opened,  and  a  strapping  girl  of  about 
sixteen,  perhaps,  bare  legged  to  the  knees, — bare 
footed, — with  a  dirty  homespun  dress  on,  came  out 
on  the  porch,  her  yellow  hair,  cut  off  square  all 
around,  falling  loosely  on  her  neck. 

"Can  you  tell  me  how  far  it  is  to  Damascus, 
please  ?"  said  I. 

"W7ir-wh-d-c-h?"  said  she. 

"How  far  is  it  to  Damascus,  please  ?" 

"I  kin  tell  you  how  far  it  is  to  the  p-o-o-o-1?" 
she  said,  turning  the  "pool"  up  at  the  far  end. 

"What  pool  is  it  you  are  speaking  of,  Miss?" 
said  I. 

"They  call  it  the  sevoster-p-o-o-1,"  said  she. 

"Well,  how  far  is  it  to  Sebastopol,  then  ?"  said  I, 
jumping  at  the  conclusion  that  Sebastopol  was  the 
220 


IN   THE    LAND   OF   THE    BLUE    DOG. 

home  name  of  Damascus,  my  place  of  destination. 

"Hits  about  /Vmiles,"  said  the  girl.  "You  jes 
git  inter  ther  road  again,  and  keep  on  twell  you  git 
to  ther  top  of  ther  hill,  and  then  you  jes  keep  on 
twell  you  git  to  ther  bottom  of  ther  hill,  and  then 
you  cross  ther  creek,  and  then  you  keep  ther 
straight  pool  road  twell  you  git  thar." 

"Thank  you,  Miss,"  said  I,  and  I  drove  on. 

"Bre-w— er-er-erh !"  howled  the  blue  dog,  and 
crawled  back  under  the  cabin,  grumbling  at  having 
had  his  nap  interrupted. 

I  had  gone  not  over  three  quarters  of  a  mile,  I 
think,  when  I  came  to  a  log  blacksmith's  shop  on 
the  side  of  the  road,  and  a  plank  cabin  about  10x12 
feet, — a  country  "store," — closed.  The  smith  was 
sitting  in  his  door,  smoking  a  corn  cob  pipe,  and 
looking  very  lonely,  and  well  he  might, — for  of  all 
the  God-forsaken,  desolate  wildernesses  I  ever  saw, 
that  was  the  worst.  It  was  near  night,  and  a  white 
hen  and  a  red  rooster  had  already  retired  for  the 
night  -on  the  end  of  a  broken  wagon,  while  two  lean 
shoats  were  quarreling  over  the  warm  side  of  a  litter 
pile  against  the  end  of  the  store.  I  said : 

"My  friend,  can  you  tell  me  how  much  farther 
it  is  to  Sebastopol?" 

"This  is  hit,"  said  the  man,  without  rising,  or 
taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

'muftis 'it'?"  said  I. 

"This,"  he  said. 

"Meaning ?"  I  said,  glancing  around. 

221 


IN    THE    LAND   OF   THE    BLUE    DOG. 

"Yes;  this  shop  and  that  store;  that's  RatlifFs; 
he's  got  the  chilhmf ever ;  hits  the  posfoffice,  too/*' 
said  the  man,  with,  I  thought,  a  show  of  local  pride. 

Rejoiced  that  I  was  so  near  the  end  of  my  jour 
ney,  I  dismounted,  stretched  my  legs,  and  made 
inquiry  how  to  reach  Mr.  Garratt's, — and  in  a  lit 
tle  while  was  safely  beneath  that  gentleman's  hos 
pitable  roof. 

*         *         *         * 

On  another  occasion  Dr.  Bob  Horner,  a  class 
mate  of  mine,  practicing  at  one  of  the  railroad  sta 
tions  in  east  Mississippi,  sent  for  me  to  meet  him 
at  his  place  and  go  with  him  in  consultation  to  see 
a  surgical  case  in  the  interior.  You  know  I  had 
come  out  of  the  war  with  a  considerable  reputation 
with  the  home  folks  of  Mississippi,  as  a  surgeon, 
and  Bob  thought  a  good  deal  of  my  attainments, 
anyhow.  Arrived  at  the  station  at  an  early  hour 
I  was  met  by  Dr.  Bob  with  his  spanking  double 
team,  and  everything  in  readiness  for  the  trip  and 
the  proposed  operation. 

We  had  to  go  about  thirty  miles,  an  all  day  ride. 
Driving  is  tedious  in  that  heavy  white  sand,  and 
there  are  the  same  monotonous,  interminable 
stretches  of  long  leaf  pine.  We  had  talked  out, 
having  kept  up  a  pretty  lively  chatter  up  to  and 
including  our  noon  rest  and  lunch.  The  lunch 
consisted  of  two  cans  of  cove  oysters,  two  bottles 
of  ale,  and  some  crackers. 

At  noon  we  unhitched  our  team  by  a  clear  little 
223 


KECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

stream  that  crossed  the  road., — gave  the  horses 
some  feed,  and  let  them  drink.  Before  opening  up 
our  lunch,  Dr.  Bob  said: 

"Hold  on  a  moment,  Doctor ;  there's  white  perch 
in  this  creek,  and  I'll  catch  some  for  our  dinner." 

I  didn't  argue  the  question  with  him ;  I  supposed 
he  knew  what  he  was  talking  about.  So  Bob  rigged 
up  a  line  and  hook  which  he  took  out  of  his 
clothes  somewhere,  and  turning  over  a  log  secured 
some  beetles  or  other  bugs  for  bait,  and  going  a 
little  way  up  the  creek,  was  soon  angling  for  perch, 
while  I  was  making  a  fire,  as  he  had  requested  me 
to  do. 

He  was  gone  not  over  fifteen  minutes,  I  should 
say,  when  he  returned,  holding  up  for  my  inspec 
tion,  four  beautiful  speckled  perch,  each  about  ten 
inches  long.  They  were  the  prettiest  fish  I  ever 
saw,  tho'  I  was  accustomed  to  what  they  call  white 
perch  at  Jackson.  These  were  silver  white,  mottled 
with  purplish  blotches,  and  as  the  little  stream  was 
as  clear  as  crystal  and  as  cold  as  ice,  you  may  imag 
ine  they  were  a  delicate  morsel.  I  said : 

"How  are  you  going  to  cook  them,  Bob  ?" 

"Watch  me,"  he  said. 

Raking  away  the  sand  in  a  clear  nice  place,  he 
put  some  coals  in  the  opening.  Killing  the  fish 
by  a  blow  on  the  back  of  the  head,  and  opening 
them,  removing  the  gills  and  entrails,  and  sprink 
ling  on  them  some  salt,  which  he  produced  from  a 
paper  taken  from  his  vest  pocket,  he  wrapped  the 
224 


IN   THE   LAND   OF   THE    BLUE    DOG. 

fish  in  several  thicknesses  of  newspaper,  and  thor 
oughly  soaked  the  paper  in  the  creek ;  then  he  laid 
them  on  the  coals,  and  covered  them  with  hot  ashes 
and  coals  on  top  of  that.  "When  the  paper  burns 
they  are  done/'  said  Bob. 

Meantime  he  had  taken  out  the  lunch,  and 
spreading  the  lap  robe  on  the  ground  for  a  table 
cloth,,  we  spread  our  feast;  and  I  tell  you  now  I 
never,  in  my  life,  tasted  anything  that  met  my 
demands  better  than  those  white  perch  Bob  roasted 
in  the  ashes. 

We  resumed  our  journey,  and  by  four  o'clock 
the  horses  were  much  jaded,  and  we  had  to  take  it 
slowly.  We  had  soon  relapsed  into  silence,  each 
one  busy  with  his  own  thoughts;  it  was  awfully 
"bore-ous." 

Presently,  at  the  bottom  of  one  of  those  long  red 
hills  that  characterize  a  portion  of  that  section, 
tho',  for  the  most  part  the  land  is  level,  we  came 
upon  a  covered  wagon,  drawn  by  two  lean  ponies, 
and  filled  with  white  headed  children.  Under  the 
wagon  a  tar  bucket  hung  loosely,  and  by  it  was  tied 
a  blue  dog,  of  the  genus  "hound."  Out  by  the 
roadside  lay  a  larger,  yellow  and  white  dog, — dead. 
An  old  man  with  long  gray  beard  was  standing  by, 
doing  nothin'  but  lookin'  sorry ;  a  typical  specimen 
of  the  "mover"  class,  or,  as  Dr.  Willis  King  in 
"Stories  of  a  Country  Doctor,"  calls  them, -"branch 
water  men."  The  old  man  had  evidently  just 
dragged  the  dog  there  and  left  him.  By  the  man 
225 


A 


nothin'  but  lookin'  sorry." 


IN   THE   LAND   OF   THE    BLUE    DOG. 

stood  a  tow-headed  boy  in  butternut  dyed  jeans 
pants,  a  coarse  cotton  shirt,  and  gallusses  of  striped 
bed  ticking,  with  his  hands  stuck  in  his  pockets  up 
to  his  elbows,  for  it  was  a  little  coolish. 

The  scene  was  so  desolate,  the  old  man  looked  so 
sad,  I  thought  to  say  a  cheering  word,  and  perhaps 
get  him  into  conversation ;  I  didn't,  of  course,  know 
what  killed  the  dog;  so?  in  the  absence  of  anything 
better  to  begin  with,  I  sung  out,  cheerily: 

"My  friend,  did  your  dog  die?'7 

He  looked  at  me  sorter  sideways  for  about  a 
minit: — "I  recJcin  so,  by  G — d, — he's  dead,"  said 
he  with  a  scowl,  and  a  look  as  if  he'd  like  to  cut  my 
throat  for  a  darn'd  fool. 

Dr.  Bob  knocked  me  on  the  back  and  just  "ha, — 
ha'd."  "A  good  one  on  you,  Doctor,"  he  said; 
"Now,  dont  you  wish  you  hadn't  said  anything  ?" 

"I  do,  indeed,"  said  I,  much  disgusted. 

Bob  said  that  class  resent  anything  of  the  kind, 
and  that  it  is  best  to  speak  to  them  when  spoken 
to.  I  told  him  that  I  had  just  been  told  as  much 
by  the  "other  fellow." 

Bob  called  my  attention  to  the  fact, — he  says  it 
is  a  fact,  that  this  class  is  as  much  characterized 
by  the  blue  dog  as  the  negro  is  by  the  "yaller"  dog ; 
and  that  the  blue  dog  is  found  nowhere  else  than 
in  the  piney  woods  among  the  "poor  folks,"  as  they 
are  universally  called  by  the  darkies. 

But  Dr.  Bob's  time  came  soon,  said  the  Old  Doc 
tor.  Just  before  dark, — the  chickens  were  flying 
227 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  EEBEL  SURGEON. 

up, — we  came  in  front  of  a  nice  white  house,  a  Mr. 
Gregory's,  a  pretty  well  to  do  farmer.  The  house 
sits  back  from  the  road  some  little  distance,  in  a 
pretty  lawn,  surrounded  by  a  neat  white  fence, — 
evidences  everywhere  of  thrift,  contrasting  strik 
ingly  with  the  absence  of  it  almost  everywhere  else, 
and  with  the  desolateness  of  the  surroundings  gen 
erally.  Bob  said: 

"Here,  Doctor,  hold  the  reins;  I've  got  to  give 
these  horses  some  water ;  they  look  fagged  out,  and 
we  have  eight  miles  to  go  yet." 

Just  then  a  great  big  black  dog,  a  fierce  looking 
fellow,  got  up  and  gave  a  low  growl. 

"I'm  awfully  afraid  to  go  in  there;  that's  a  ter 
rible  dog.  I  know  this  country  from  one  end  to  the 
other,  and  I've  heard  of  Dave  Gregory's  dog." 

"Here,  boy,"  said  the  doctor  to  a  lad  standing 
near  the  dog.  "If  you'll  hold  that  dog  till  I  get 
two  buckets  of  water,  I'll  give  you  a  quarter." 

"All  right,"  said  the  boy,  and  he  seized  the  dog 
around  the  neck.  "Come  ahead,"  said  he,  "I'll 
hold  him,"  and  he  pushed  the  dog  to  the  ground, 
and  with  his  arm  around  him,  laid  down  on  top  of 
him. 

The  doctor,  taking  the  bucket  from  the  foot  of 
the  buggy  in  one  hand,  and  the  heavy  driving  whip 
in  the  other,  holding  it  by  the  small  end,  ready  to 
use  it  as  a  club  if  necessary  for  defense,  went  cau 
tiously  in,  circling  around  the  dog,  and  keeping  a 
sharp  eye  on  him. 

228 


IN   THE   LAND   OF   THE   BLUE    DOG. 

He  got  the  water  and  watered  both  horses;  and 
just  before  getting  into  the  buggy,  said : 

"Boy, — dont  turn  that  dog  loose  till  we  get 
started, — and  here's  your  quarter  on  the  gate  post." 

"All  right/'  said  the  boy;  "down,  sir"  (to  the 
dog). 

As  Bob  got  into  the  buggy  and  took  hold  of  the 
reins,  he  said : 

"That's  a  pretty  savage  dog,  aint  he  Bud  ?" 

"He  uster  ~be"  said  the  boy. 

"Use  to  be  ?"  said  the  doctor ;  "aint  he  bad  now  ? 
Wont  he  bite?" 

"Bite  nothin',"  said  the  boy,  pocketing  the  quar 
ter.  "He's  b-b-b-b-blind,  and  so  old  his  teefs  is 
all  dropped  out." 

"One  on  you,  now,  Doc,"  said  I.    "Dont  you  wish 
you  had  your  quarter  back?" 
229 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


JIMMiE  WAS  ALL  RIGHT. 


IN  MY  neighborhood,  said  the  Old  Doctor,  lazily 
throwing  one  leg  over  the  other,  and  borrow 
ing  a  chew  of  tobacco  from  Hudson,,  the  only 
one  of  the  Journal  staff  that  uses  it  that  way,  there 
was    a    nasty    little    cock-eyed    bricklayer    named 
Lynch.     He  was  a  "Hinglishman,"  he  said,  from 
"  'Arrowgate."    His  wife  was  a  pretty  decent  sort 
of  a  feller ;  but  he  was  too  mean  to  eat  enough. 

He  had  a  way  of  coming  over  to  the  drug  store, 
—I  had  a  drug  store  then, — and  asking  Bob,  the 
clerk,  what  was  "good  for"  so  and  so.  He  never 
sent  for  me  in  his  life,  and  never  bought  over  ten 
cents  worth  of  anything  in  the  drug  store.  His 
big  "holt,"  as  he  said,  was  "Seen-na"  and  salts. 
Jimmie,  his  son,  was  down  with  chill  and  fever, 
and  he  was  giving  him  calomel,  and  about  three 
grains  of  quinine  a  day, — he  was  too  mean  to  buy 
enough, — and  Jimmie  got  no  better,  fast.  About 
the  fourth  chill  Jimmie  had,  they  gave  in,  and  sent 
for  me.  I  prescribed  enough  quinine,  and  pre 
vented  the  paroxysm.  At  my  next  visit  I  found 
him  well,  and  I  accordingly  said: 

"Jimmie's  all  right  now;  he  can  get  up  tomor- 


"Yes,  Jimmie' s  all  right,"  said  his  mother;  "I 
knowed  that  last  doste  of  calamy  I  gi'  him  would 
set  Jimmie  all  right." 

230 


CIRCUMSTANCES   ALTER   CASES. 

T  went  out  and  kicked  myself,  said  the  Old  Doc 
tor. 

#  $  #  9ft 

Lynch  had  a  dog  and  wouldn't  feed  him.  The 
dog,  thrown  on  his  own  resources  for  a  living,  used 
to  go  hunting  for  young  rabbits,  which,  in  summer, 
were  plentiful  even  on  the  outskirts  of  town. 
Lynch  saw  him  with  a  rabbit  one  day,  and  took  it 
away  from  him.  Fact !  Talk  about  mean  men, — 
and  the  Doctor  looked  just  too  disgusted  for  any 
thing. 


CIRCUMSTANCES  ALTER  CASES. 


ANY  PORT  IN  A  STORM. 

AFTER  -the  surrender,  you  know,  the  South 
was  garrisoned  with  negro  troops,  said  Our 
Fat  Philosopher,  seating  himself,  and  with 
a  reminiscent,  far-away  expression  on  his  usually 
jolly  phiz.     It  was  exceedingly  offensive  and  hu 
miliating  to  the  people,  and  was  very  bad  judgment 
on  the  part  of  the  authorities, — if  it  was  their  de 
sire  to  have  peace  and  kindly  feeling;  for  it  often 
provoked  clashes  that  should  have  been  avoided. 
At  Jackson,  my  boyhood  home,  the  negro  sol- 
231 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

diers  of  the  garrison  committed  many  depreda 
tions  ;  stole  fruit,  hogs,  poultry ;  anything  they  took 
a  fancy  to  or  needed,  and  it  was  winked  at  by  the 
officers,  white  men  tho?  they  were.  They  were  very 
insolent,  also,  to  the  "conquered  rebels,"  as  they 
contemptuously  stigmatized  the  whites.  No  use  to 
appeal  to  the  commandant;  there  was  no  redress. 
So,  citizens  now  and  then  got  into  very  serious 
trouble  by  taking  matters  in  their  own  hands.  You 
all  may  remember  that  Colonel  Ed  Yerger  of  Jack 
son,  was  so  outraged  because  the  commandant  at 
that  post,  in  his  absence,  sent  and  seized  Mrs.  Yer- 
ger's  piano,  because  the  colonel  had  not  paid  his 
share  of  the  tax  levied  by  the  commandant  for  street 
improvement  or  something,  that  on  meeting  him  on 
the  street  Yerger  stabbed  him  to  death.  It  was 
Colonel  Crane,  I  think  his  name  was. 

But,  well,  I'm  off;  Colonel  Fleet  Cooper,  the 
editor  of  the  Jackson  paper  at  that  time; — no,  he 
wasn't  a  shonuff  "colonel,"  you  know.  In  the  South 
all  editors  are  "Colonels,"  you  know, — saw  some 
negro  soldiers  in  his  orchard,  and  shot  at  them, 
but  without  injury.  I  think  it  was  birdshot,  and 
was  only  done  to  scare  them. 

He  was  roughly  seized  and  hurried  into  town 
(he  lived  in  the  suburbs),  and  taken  to  the  lock-up. 
He  was  roughly  handled;  unnecessarily  so,  for  he 
made  no  resistance, — and  was  even  beat  over  the 
head.  They  were  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  him  locked 
up  that  they  wouldn't  even  give  him  time  to  get  his 
232 


CIRCUMSTANCES   ALTER   CASES. 

hat.  I  can  see  the  crowd  now,,  rushing,  almost 
dragging  him  through  the  streets  approaching  the 
center  of  town,  bare  headed,  in  the  broiling  hot  July 
sun,  his  poor  old  bald  head  glistening  in  the  sun 
like  burnished  brass  as  they  hurried  him  along  to 
the  jail.  It  created  a  good  deal  of  excitement.  But 
what  could  the  people  do  ?  Disarmed,  subjugated, 
had  taken  the  oath, — entirely  at  the  disposal  of  a 
provost  marshal.  Nothing.  But  they  talked. 
They  could  express  their  indignation  in  impotent 
cuss  words;  that  was  all. 

That  night  in  the  lobby  of  the  hotel  there  was 
quite  a  crowd  collected,  and  they  were  discussing 
the  outrage.  On  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  there 
was  a  stranger, — a  man  in  a  long  linen  duster  and 
a  black  slouch  hat  pulled  well  over  his  eyes.  He 
had  the  appearance  of  having  been  riding,  and  had 
just  arrived,  dusty  and  untidy.  His  presence  did 
not  attract  attention,  because  at  that  time  there  was 
a  great  deal  of  traveling,  and  there  were  a  great 
many  strangers  coming  and  going. 

In  the  crowd  was  an  old  citizen-farmer,  an  old 
toothless  feller,  well  known  thereabout,  named 
Major  Lanier, — why  "Major,"  I  dont  know.  He 
was  too  old  to  have  been  in  the  army  or  to  have 
taken  any  part  in  the  war.  His  nose  and  chin  were 
about  to  meet  over  the  remains  of  a  mouth,  now 
shrunken  and  flabby.  He  was  particularly  indig 
nant. 

"Served  'em  right!  Served  'em  right! — the 
233 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

black  scoundrels/7  said  the  major,  emphasizing  his 
words  with  a  thump  on  the  floor  with  his  big  stick. 
"No  business  stealin'  Colonel  Cooper's  apples.  I 
wish  he'd  a'killed  all  of  'em.  Served  'em  right, 
says  I." 

The  stranger,  whom  no  one  had  noticed  particu 
larly  before,  stepped. up  to  him,  and  opening  his 
dust-coat  and  throwing  it  back  revealed  the  chev 
rons  on  his  collar, — it  was  the  colonel  commanding 
the  garrison  of  negro  soldiers, — said : 

"You  damned  old  rebel  scoundrel, — you  say  it 
is  right  to  shoot  a  union  soldier  for  taking  a  few 
green  apples  ?" 

"Was  they  green?  Was  they  green?"  quickly 
exclaimed  the  old  major,  who  was  terribly  fright 
ened  and  began  to  tremble  and  to  apologize.  "Oh, 
no ;  not  if  they  was  green.  I  wouldn't  shoot  a  sol 
dier  for  taking  a  few  green  apples.  No,  7  thought 
they  was  ripe.  No, — not  if  they  wasn't  ripe.  No ; 

I  wouldn't  if  they  was  green ."    And  he  backed 

out  of  the  crowd  still  mumbling  his  disclaimer 
amidst  shouts  of  laughter.     A  close  call,  but  the 
major  thought  "any  port  in  a  storm." 
234 


UNCLE   HARDY   MULLINS. 


UNCLE  HARDY  MULLINS;  OR,  THE 
WAYS  OF  PROVIDENCE. 


UNCLE  Hardy  Mullins?    Did  I  promise  to 
tell  you  about  him  ?  said  our  ever  welcome 
Fat  Philosopher  this  bright  morning.    So 
I  did. 

"Reverend  Hardy  Mullins/'  or  "Uncle  Hardy 
Mullins/'  as  he  was  universally  called,  had  been 
raised  in  the  piney  woods  of  Mississippi,  the  be 
nighted  section  of  sand,  blue  dogs,  white  headed 
children  and  "po  folks/'  as  the  negroes  called  the 
whites  of  that  section.  He  had  been  "called  to 
preach,"  a  sort  of  superstitious  belief  still  held  by 
certain  people.  You  all  know  how  it  is, — "called/' 
— well, — by  "a  voice  in  the  air," —  or,  somewhere, 
or,  as  Dr.  Willis  King  says  of  Joe's  excuse  to  the 
teacher, — "hit  moughter  been  a  hoss  a  'nicker in'." 

Uncle  Hardy  was  about  75  years  old, — totally 
illiterate,  but  he  had  been  preaching  so  long  he 
knew  the  Bible  almost  by  heart,  but  was  not  able 
to  locate  any  quotation.  He  used  to  say :  "You'll 
find  my  text  betwixt  the  leds  of  the  book."  He 
looked  like  one  of  the  Patriarchs  mentioned  in  the 
"book,"  his  long  white  beard  reaching  nearly  to 
his  waistband.  Of  course,  he  was  itinerant ;  hadn't 
charge  of  any  fixed  "work"  or  congregation,  hence 
he  preached  mostly  in  the  country,  amongst  people 
for  the  most  part  as  untaught  as  himself. 
235 


RECOLLECTIONS   OF   A   REBEL   SURGEON. 

Just  after  the  war,  preaching  in  the  little  log 
school  house  to  the  neighbors  over  in  Eankin 
county.,  across  the  river  from  Jackson,  he  said  on 
the  occasion  when  I  had  the  privilege  of  hearing 
him: 

"My  brethren,  all  things  happens  for  the  best. 
That's  been  my  doctrin'  and  my  belief  all  my  life. 
Hits  recorded  in  the  scripters  that  to  him  as  has 
faith,  all  things  happens  for  the  best  in  God's  good 
time.  I  have  faith.  I  b'leve  everything  happens 
for  the  best;  I  will  b'leve  it;  I  must  b'leve  it,  be 
cause  the  good  book  says  so.  But,  my  Christian 
friends,  we  has  our  trials  and  our  temptations, — 
our  hours  of  unbelief,  and  I  has  mine,  and  I  pray, 
"Oh,  Lord,  help  my  unbelief/'  and  he  hears  me. 
Sometimes  hits  mighty  hard  to  b'leve.  When  we 
loses  a  child,  or  a  friend,  for  instance,  hits  mighty 
hard  fur  to  b'leve  that  hits  for  the  best,  'spec'ly 
when  ef  hits  a  man  he  leaves  a  pore  lone  widder 
'ooman  and  six  little  orphan  children,  but  God 
knows  best,  and  we  must  bow  to  His  will. 

"Now,  I  come  home  from  the  army  after  the 
break-up,  and  my  little  house  was  burnt;  all  the 
fences  burnt ;  my  two  mules  stolen,  and  nothin'  on 
this  green  yerth  left  me  'cept  a  blue  sow; — and 
by  the  grace  of  the  Lord,  she  pigged  in  the  spring, 
— givin'  me  a  show  for  my  meat  in  the  fall,  and  the 
mule  I  rid  all  endurin'  of  the  war  where  I  was 
chapling  to  Captain  Carr's  comp'ny. 

"But  I  took  heart.  I  got  the  nabers  to  jine  in, 
236 


UNCLE    HAKDY   MULLINS. 

and  we  put  up  a  little  log  house.  I  horrid  a  plow, 
and  with  that  one  pore  so'  back  mule,  I  broke  up 
a  little  patch  for  cawn.  The  cawn  was  up  and  in 
the  tassel,  and  needed  one  more  plowin'  to  lay  it 
by.  Hit  was  promisin';  and  with  my  growin' 
shoats  I  thought  to  stave  off  starvation  for  a  while 
longer,  and  I  was  puttin'  my  trust  in  Providence, 
when  what  should  happen  but  some  of  them  nigger 
sogers  from  the  garrison  over  thar  (pointing  with 
his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  in  the  direction  of 
Jackson),  jes'  stole  my  mule^  and  killed  and  car 
ried  off  the  l-a-s-t  one  of  my  shoats,  not  even 
sparin'  the  old  blue  sow." 

Here  the  old  fellow  paused  and  "wiped  away  a 
tear" ;  and  leaning  over  the  pulpit,  said,  with  emo 
tion: 

"Now,  brethren  and  sistern :    That  may  have  all 
been  for  the  best, — but  I'll  jest  be  everlastin'ly 
durned  my  old  buttons  if  I  can  see  it !" 
237 


KECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


THE  LITTLE  HU-GAG,  AND  THE  GREAT 
AMERICAN  PHIL-LI-LIEU. 


AMONGST  the  renters  on  my  place  just  after 
the  war,  said  the  Old  Doctor,  for  you 
must  know  that  at  the  break-up  when  we 
came  home  from  the  war  we  were  all  dead  broke; 
and  those  who  had  once  owned  cotton  plantations 
and  slaves  and  mules,  etc.,  found  themselves  pos 
sessed  of  nothing  on  this  earth  but  barren  land. 
Houses  burned,  slaves  freed,  fences  destroyed, 
mules  stolen  or  taken  for  the  army,  by  one  side  or 
the  other.  Well,  we  had  to  do  something,  or  starve. 
I  put  up  a  dozen  or  more  log  cabins  and  rented 
twenty  or  more  acres  to  small  white  farmers  (not 
that  the  farmers  were  small,  but  they  farmed  on  a 
small  scale) .  They  were  of  the  class  of  people  who, 
before  the  war  lived  in  the  poor,  piney  woods  por 
tion  of  the  State;  a  class  who  never  owned  any 
slaves,  and  for  whom  the  negroes,  slaves  as  they 
were,  entertained  a  cordial  contempt.  '"Poor  white 
trash,"  they  called  them.  Well,  as  I  started  to  say : 
Amongst  those  who  rented  from  me  and  occupied 
my  tenant  houses,  was  a  family  named  Parsons. 
The  family  consisted  of  the  father,  mother  and 
two  cubs, — boys  about  14  and  1 6  years  of  age.  No 
use  trying  to  describe  them;  you  fellers  must  be 
familiar  with  the  "cracker"  or  "tackey"  type  of 
Southern  people,  especially  common  in  Georgia. 
238 


THE   LITTLE    HU-GAG. 

The  two  boys  were  good  workers,  and  were  in  the 
field  soon  and  late,  and  made  good  crops.  But 
their  daddy, — the  "old  man," — he  was  not  old; — 
but,  do  you  know,  the  women  of  that  class  always 
call  their  husband  "old  man," — even  tho?  he  may 
be  20,  and  vice  versa, — he  calls  her  "old  'ooman," 
—he  was  the  apotheosis  of  laziness.  He  was  too 
lazy  to  stop  eating  when  once  under  good  headway 
(provided  the  grub  didn't  give  out).  He  rarely 
ever  got  to  the  field  till  near  knocking-off  time  for 
dinner  at  noon,  on  one  excuse  and  another. 

I  remember  one  spring  morning  when  corn  was 
growing,  and  then  was  the  time,  or  never,  to  work 
it  to  insure  a  crop,  Tom  and  Bill  were  in  the 
field  and  had  been  since  daylight.  Parsons  hung 
around  the  steps  of  our  back  porch,  where  Robert 
and  I  and  some  others  were  sitting  smoking  and 
talking, — telling  of  what  he  had  seen  and  done 
in  Georgia,  an  inexhaustible  subject  with  him. 
There  was  nothing,  anywhere,  and  never  had  been, 
except  in  Georgia, — "Jawjie,"  he  pronounced  it. 
Why,  sirs,  he  even  declared  that  in  "Jawjie"  post 
age  stamps  were  larger,  "purtier," — would  last 
longer  and  carry  a  letter  farther  than  elsewhere  on 
earth,  and  that  moreover  they  didn't  cost  over  half 
as  much  as  they  did  in  Mississippi.  He  yawned, 
and  looking  up  at  the  sun, — by  now  nearly  over 
head, — said : 

"Gee, — I  didn't  know  it  was  so  late.  I  have  made 
239 


RECOLLECTIONS   OF   A    REBEL   SURGEON. 

arrangements  to  borry  some  meal  for  dinner,  and 
I  guess  I'll  be  gettin'  to  the  field." 

He  was  the  most  intolerable  brag.  Nothing  you 
could  relate  but  he  could  cap  it  with  something  he 
had  seen  in  "Jawjie." 

One  afternoon  in  summer,  after  crops  had  been 
"laid  by,"  and  the  men  had  some  leisure,  Parsons 
and  several  others  of  the  tenants  were  gathered 
around  the  back  steps  of  my  house  talking  to  Kob- 
ert  and  John,  when  I  came  up  with  my  gun  from 
a  ride  to  see  a  neighbor's  sick  child.  I  didn't  take 
my  gun  to  see  the  sick  child,  you  understand, — I 
see  you  smirking, — but  thinking  I  might  shoot 
some  squirrels  on  the  road,  as  it  lay  through  some 
hickory  and  oak  timber,  and  nuts  were  getting  big 
enough  for  them  to  sample.  As  I  dismounted  and 
approached  the  group,  Parsons  said : 

"Didn't  see  nothin'  to  shoot  at ;  eh,  Doc  ?" 

"No,"  said  I, — "nothing  but  a  miserable  little 
hu-gag,  and  I  wouldn't  shoot  him," — looking  at 
John  and  Eobert  with  a  wink. 

"A  hu-gag?"  said  Parsons;  "I  reckin'  we  call  it 
by  a  different  name  in  Jawjie;  what  sort  of  a  thing 
was  it  you  saw?" 

"Why,"  said  I, — "dont  you  know  what  a  hu-gag 
is?  You  must  have  seen  many  a  one." 

"Of  course  I  have,"  said  Parsons, — "but  I  dont 
know  it  by  that  name." 

"It's  a  small  gray  animal ." 

Parsons  nodded  his  head : 
240 


THE   LITTLE   HU-GAG. 

"Just  so,"  he  said. 

—with  sharp  ears  like  a  fox/' — continued  I, 
he  interrupting  me,  giving  assent  to  each  item  as 
I  progressed;  "Oomph-hno"  (a  very  common  form 
of  assent  in  the  South,  unspellable,  but  you  all 
know  what  it  means,  said  the  Old  Doctor,  aside), 
"Oomph-hno,"  said  Parsons,  "the  same  thing,  ex 
actly." 

—Hind  legs  a  little  longer  than  front  legs," 
said  I,  "and — 

"Exactly,"  said  Parsons, — "same  thing;  plenty 
of  them  in  Jawjie,  only  larger — 

— dark  stripe  running  down  his  back  to  his 
tail,"  said  I. 

"Same  thing,"  said  Parsons, — "we  call  7em — 

— short  stump  tail,"  I  continued,  Parsons 
nodding  assent  to  everything,  and  much  interested, 
—with  a  little  brass  knob  on  the  end," — said 
I,  with  perfect  gravity. 

"Eh?  eh?"  said  Parsons,  caught  in  the  act  of 
nodding  assent;  and  you  ought  to  have  seen  how 
cheap  and  sheepish  he  looked,  and  how  he  slunk  off, 
while  the  boys  just  hollered. 

And   here    the    Old    Doctor    laughed   his   good 

natured  chuckle. 

*         *         *         * 

Another  time,  said  the  Old  Doctor,  Parsons  and 

a  lot  of  the  farm  hands,  tenants, — were  lying  on 

the  grass  late  one  afternoon  in  summer  as  I  came 

up  again  with  my  gun, — for,  understand,  I  was  a 

241 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

scandalous  rifle  shot,  as  the  niggers  say,, — and  al 
ways  toted  my  squirrel  rifle  when  I  went  to  see 
patients  in  the  immediate  neighborhood.  I  glanced 
at  Bobert,  who  knew  that  something  was  coming. 
I  said : 

"Bobert, — over  there  back  of  Waller's  corn  field, 
in  that  ravine,  you  know,  where  the  niggers  say 
"sperits"  live,  I  saw  the  darndest  animal  I  ever  saw 
in  my  life.'  (I  wouldn't  look  at  Parsons,  for  fear 
of  a  "give  away.")  "I  described  it  to  old  Dixon, 
and  he  knows  it  all,  you  know,  to  hear  him  tell  it. 
He  said  he  had  never  seen  one, — did  not  know 
there  were  any  in  this  country;  thought  they  be 
longed  to  a  mountainous  country ;  but  from  my  de 
scription,  he  said,  he  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  the 
Great  American  Phil-^-lieu." 

"What  sort  of  a  looking  thing  was  it?"  asked 
one  of  the  men. 

(Parsons  was  lying  on  his  side,  propped  up  on 
one  elbow,  chewing  the  end  of  a  straw,  and  trying 
to  look  indifferent.) 

"It  was  just  the  queerest  looking  thing  imagin 
able,"  said  I.  "It  had  a  great  thick-set  head  like  a 
boar, — bristles  on  its  back; — was  a  dark  brown 
color,  and  about  the  size  of  a  rabbit; — and  the 
strangest  part  of  it  was, — that  it  had  two  short  legs 
on  one  side  and  two  long  legs  on  the  other,  fespec- 
ially  adapted/  Mr.  Dixon  said,  'for  running  around 
the  side  of  a  hill' ;  and  Dixon  says  the  only  way  it 
can  be  caught,  being  very  fleet  of  foot,  is  to  head 
242 


THE    DOCTOR   SEES   A   LADY   HOME. 

him  off,  —  turn  him  back,  thus  causing  his  long- 
legs  to  be  up-hill,  and  his  short  legs  down  hill, 
when,  unable  to  run,  he  just  rolls  down  to  the  bot 
tom  of  the  hill  and  is  easily  caught/' 

"Ever  see  one,  Parsons?"  said  one  of  the  men. 
"Grot  any  of  'em  in  Jawjie?" 

Parsons  yawned  and  stretched  himself,  —  and 
with  as  much  unconcern  as  he  could  assume,  said  : 

"Never  seen  but  one,  and  hit  was  a  young  one." 


THE  DOCTOR  SEES  A  LADY  HOME. 


A  DOCTOR  has  a  heap  of  funny  experiences, 
said  the  Old  Doctor,  but  some  doctors  are 
so  solemn  that  they  have  no  sense  of  fun, 
and  some  are  so  darned  pious, — or  stupid, — which  ? 
that  they  cannot  see  the  point  of  a  joke.    The  best 
of  them  dont  always  appreciate  a  joke  on  them 
selves  ;  it  requires  something  of  a  philosopher  to  do 
that ;  eh,  Dan'els  ? 

I  was  thinking  of  a  good  joke  on  myself  that 
occurred  in  my  dandy  days,  when  I  was  a  consider 
able  of  a  "s'ciety  man" ;  when  I  used  to  put  grease 
on  my  hair,  and  wear  kid  gloves  and  pretty  neck 
ties  with  a  pin  stuck  in  'em,  and  visit  the  girls. 
Why,  I  used  to  dance,  even, — the  round  dances — . 
243 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

Now.,  look  adhere,  you  fellers.  I  see  it  on  your 
faces  that  you  dont  believe  it.  Because  I  am  so  fat 
now,  you  needn't  think  I  was  always  clumsy.  Why, 
once  I  was  nearly  as  skinny  as  Dan'els, — and  here 
the  Doctor  shook  all  over  with  merriment  at  the 
contemplation  of  such  an  absurd  possibility; — and 
they  do  say,  he  continued,  that  Dan'els  was  so  slim, 
that  at  the  San  Antonio  meeting  of  the  State  Med 
ical  Society,  a  dog  followed  him  around  all  day, 
thinking  he  was  a  bone.  And  here  the  old  fellow 
just  made  the  furniture  rattle,  he  shook  so,  and  his 
face  was  so  red  I  thought  he  was  going  to  have 
apoplexy. 

At  that  meeting,  he  resumed  (the  fellers  told  it 
on  him),  a  country  man  asked  Dan'els  if  he  had 
ever  had  the  dropsy?  Dan'els  was  indignant,  and 
said: 

"No;  what  on  earth  makes  you  ask  such  a  ques 
tion?" 

"I  didn't  know,"  said  the  feller,  "and  I  was  jest 
a  reflectin'  that  if  you  had,  you  was  the  lest  cured 
case  I  ever  saw;  and  I've  got  a  sister  what's  got  the 
dropsy,  and  I  was  a'goin'  to  ask  you  to  recommend 
me  to  your  doctor." 

You  bet  he  lit  out  when  he  saw  that  Dan'els  was 
mad.  But  I've  got  off  the  track  again;  where  was 
I  at? 

Ohj  yes.  I  was  a  very  considerable  of  a  beau  at 
that  period.  I  attended  receptions,  and  went  with 
"the  best  society";  went  everywhere; — picnics, 
244 


THE    DOCTOR   SEES   A   LADY    HOME. 

boat  sailing,  etc.;  even  took  buggy  rides  with  the 
girls.  I  was  a  young  widower, — and  they  do  say 
that  a  widower  in  love  is  just  the  biggest  fool  on 
earth.  Now,  I  wasn't  in  love,  I  want  you  to  under 
stand;  but  I  was  just  sorter  "lookin'  around/'  as 
Tim  Crane  said  to  Mrs.  Bedott.  I  went  to  church, 
— always;  the  fashionable  church.  It  was  in  Gal- 
veston,  directly  after  the  war.  Coming  out  of 
church  one  bright  sunny  Sunday  morning,  with  a 
sharp  eye  on  the  alert  for  pretty  girls,  I  saw  a  pair 
of  bright  black  eyes  looking  through  the  most  pro 
voking  veil,  as  presently  a  neat  figure,  clad  in  nice 
silk  dress  with  all  the  trimmin's, — parasol,  gloves, 
— stepped  up  by  my  side  and  said: 

"Good  morning,  Doctor." 

I  said :  "Good  morning,  Miss  er — rer," — not  rec 
ognizing  her,  but  I  didn't,  of  course,  want  her,  to 
see  that  I  didn't ;  so  I  pretended  to  know  her.  My 
first  impression  was  that  it  was  Miss  Fannie  Blank, 
whom  I  had  met  at  a  dance  the  night  before,  and 
who  had  impressed  me  so  favorably  that  I  had 
mentally  determined  to  cultivate  her  acquaintance. 
So,  I  thought,  what  a  lucky  chance  to  make  a  be 
ginning  !  I  said : 

"Allow  me  to  see  you  home."  (That  was  the 
"conventionality,"  the  correct  thing,  at  that  day.) 

"Certainly,"  she  said,  and  seemed  much  pleased 

at  the  prospect.    All  the  while  I  had  been  trying  to 

get  a  good  look  at  her  face,  but  on  account  of  that 

confounded  veil  I  couldn't  see  anything  but  a  pair 

245 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

of  very  black  eyes;  couldn't,  as  the  doctors  say, 
make  a  diagnosis. 

We  chatted  along  indifferently, — I  keeping  on 
safe  ground,  and  feeling  for  light,  till  we  had 
reached  the  corner  where  I  knew  Miss  Fanny  should 
turn  off;  but  this  one  didn't  turn  off;  she  kept 
straight  ahead.  By-and-bye,  talk  ran  out.  I  was 
gettin'  mighty  scarce  of  something  to  say.  I  said 
to  myself:  "Well,  now;  here's  a  pretty  situation. 
A  practicing  physician, — a  college  professor  at  that 
(I  was  at  that  time  professor  of  anatomy  in  the 
Texas  Medical  College),  and  a  lady's  man, — a 
society  high-flyer,  walking  home  from  church  with 
a  black-eyed  woman  whom  he  cant  diagnose."  But 
I  had  to  keep  up  appearances  that  I  knew  her  and 
was  perfectly  at  home,  you  understand.  (I  wished 
I  had  been,  literally,  at  home.)  But  I  was  never 
theless  hard  up  for  something  to  say.  Observing 
for  the  first  time  that  she  was  accompanied  by  a 
little  girl  of  about  12  years  of  age,  rather  cheaply 
but  cleanly  dressed,  it  is  true,  I  said : 

"Bye-the-bye, — who  is  this  little  girl  with  you? 
I  really  do  not  recognize  her?"  (I  thought  her 
answer  would  perhaps  give  me  a  cue.) 

"Why, — that's  Maggie,"  said  the  black-eyed  un 
known;  "dont  you  know  Maggie?" 

"Why,— bless  my  soul,'"  said  I.  "So  it  is  Mag 
gie.  How  de  do,  Maggie?  You  have  grown  so,  I 
didn't  know  you." 

246 


THE    DOCTOR   SEES   A   LADY    HOME. 

"Why/7  said  the  woman,  "you  saw  her  yester 
day." 

Thus  trapped  I  didn't  know  what  to  say,  so, 
said  nothing,  but  kept  up  a  mighty  sight  of  think- 
in';  reflecting  what  a  good  joke  was  then  goin'  on 
on  a  stuck-up  feller  about  my  size. 

Presently  she  said  something  about  her  husband. 
"Heaven  and  earth,"  I  mentally  ejaculated ;  "worse 
and  worse.  Walking  home  from  church  with  a 
strange  woman,  married  at  that,  whose  husband, 
when  I  get  there,  may  not  be  fond  of  jokes;  may 
not  like  it  a  little  bit" ;  but,  catching  at  anything 
to  relieve  me  of  the  Maggie  faux  pas,  I  said,  cheer 
ily: 

"By-the-bye,  where  is  your  good  husband?  I 
have  not  seen  him  for  some  time?" 

«0h, — he's  dead,  you  know,"  reproachfully  re 
sponded  the  unknown. 

"No  !"  said  I ;  "surely  not  dead?  I  hadn't  heard 
of  it;  I'm  very  sorry — ." 

"Why,  Doctor,  you  attended  him;  dont  you  re 
member  ?  Only  a  short  while  ago.  He  died  of  yel 
low  fever  on  his  lumber  schooner,"  replied  she. 

"My  stars,"  I  said  to  myself."  "Here  am  I,— a 
fashionable  high-stepping  society  swell,  a  tony  phy 
sician,  and  a  college  professor  (for  I  was  a  stuck- 
up  fool,  sure  enough),  walking  home  with  a  black- 
eyed  woman,  a  widow  at  that,  whose  husband  was 
in  the  lumber  trade  and  died  on  a  schooner !  My ! 
what  a  joke  if  Miss  Fanny  and  Miss  Bessie  and  my 
247 


EECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

runnin7  mates  amongst  the  society  fellers  should 
ever  get  hold  of  it." 

But  I  was  determined  to  see  it  out. 

By  this  time  we  had  arrived  at  a  part  of  the  city 
rather  disreputable; — straggling  shanties  and  poor 
folks,  down  towards  the  bay  shore,  and  I  was 
utterly  bewildered,  so  much  so  that  I  didn't  recog 
nize  her  even  then.  So,  opening  a  dilapidated  gate, 
and  kicking  a  yellow  dog  out  of  the  path,  the 
woman  said: 

"Wont  you  come  in,  Doctor?" 

"Come  in?  Why,  of  course,  I'd.  come  in.  I 
wanted  to  see  her  take  that  confounded  veil  off. 
Bless  your  souls,  boys,  it  was  my  washer  woman! 
Fact.  And  Maggie  was  the  little  bare-legged  gal 
that  brought  my  shirts  home  of  a  Saturday  even 
ing.  I  collapsed.  She  had  to  fan  me  ten  minutes 
before  I  could  speak,  and  she  thought  it  was  the 
heat. 

You  bet  I  was  the  worst  crestfallen  dude  in  that 
town,  as  I  slunk  home  the  back  way. 

But  it  was  too  good  to  keep,  even  if  it  was  on  me, 
and  I  told  it.    How  they  did  rig  me,  to  be  sure. 
248 


FINE    POINTS   IN    DIAGNOSIS. 


FINE  POINTS  IN  DIAGNOSIS, 


THE  Journal's  genial  philosopher.,  who  occa 
sionally  illumines  the  hard  worked  editor's 
dreary  office  with  his  glowing  countenance 
and  drives  away  the  blue-devils,  dropped  in  one  day 
lately,  as  fat  and  jolly  as  ever.  He  is  kind  enough 
to  say  he  has  to  come  in,  once  a  month  to  "load 
up"; — on  what,  he  does  not  say;  like  the  cars  that 
carry  the  storage  battery,  have  to  go  to  the  dynamo 
for  their  supply  of  lightning,  we  suppose.  My  pri 
vate  opinion  is,  he  comes  to  unload,  and  we  are 
always  glad  to  receive  the  discharge.  At  any  rate 
there  is  a  kind  of  a  mutual  admiration  existing 
between  the  office  and  the  Philosopher. 

Without  any  ceremony  the  Doctor  sat  down  and 
began,  in  medias  res. 

Hudson,  he  said  (Hudson  was  closely  engaged  in 
footing  up  expense  account,  to  see  if  he  could  make 
it  come  inside  of  receipts, — I  was  laboring  on  a 
manuscript  that  would  have  discounted  Horace 
Greeley's  worst  specimen, — Bennett  was  writing  a 
love  letter, — while  the  office  boy  was  whistling 
"Henrietta, — have  you  met  her,"  keeping  time  by 
a  tattoo  with  both  hands  and  both  feet).  Hudson, 
said  the  Doctor,  I've  got  a  good  one  on  Dan'els, — 
and  here  he  chuckled  till  the  shovel  and  tongs  and 
the  other  costly  office  furniture  rattled. 

You  know  Dan'els  is  a  great  dermatologist  (I 
249 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

dont  think), — got  a  big  reputation  for  skin  dis 
eases — down  at  the  Wallow,  any  way.  I've  got  a 
case  of  skin  trouble  down  there  that's  pestering  me, 
and  after  I  had  done  for  him  everything  /  knew, 
I  brought  him  up  here  to  consult  Dan'els.  I 
thought  it  was  eczema,  and  treated  it  as  such ;  told 
Dan'els  I  thought  so.  Well,  the  patient, — his  name 
is  Skaggs, — he  is  a  sorry  lookin'  cuss, — said  he  had 
scratched  till  he  was  paralyzed  in  both  arms.  He 
rolled  up  his  sleeves  and  his  britches  legs,  and  Dan 
'els  put  on  his  specs  and  examined  it  carefully, — 
asking  him  some  questions.  Then  he  raised  up, 
and  removing  his  eye-glasses, — said,  impressively, 
and  in  that  grand  oracular  manner  he  has, — em 
phasizing  with  his  forefinger : 

"It's  psoriasis,  doctor;  psoriasis  gyrata; — a  well 
marked  case;  a  beautiful  case.  You  see,  doctor, 
the  distinguishing  features  are, — the  uniform  ele 
vated  areas  of  infiltrated  tissue, — and  the  enclosed 
areas  of  sound  skin, — and  the  uniform  redness, — 
and  the  persistent  dryness;  but,  more  than  all,  its 
occurrence  only  on  the  extensor  surfaces.  Now, 
you  see,  doctor,  this  man  has  it  on  the  extensors  of 
arms  and  legs,  and  on  his  back; — the  absence  of  it 
on  the  breast  and  abdomen — ." 

"Here,  you,"  turning  to  Skaggs, — "Never  had 
it  on  your  belly,  did  you,  Skaggs  ?" 

"Belly,  nothin',"  said  that  individual;  "Why, 
Doc,  hits  all  over  me;  wuss  in  front  than  any  place 
else." 

250 


ONE    ON    THOMPSON. 

And  here  the  jolly  doctor  laughed  till  the  tears 
ran  down  his  cheeks  in  streams  a  foot  deeD. 


ONE  ON  THOMPSON, 


T"""NEMIKDS  me,  said  the  Doctor, — when  he 
I  ^^  could  quit  shaking, — reminds  me  of  my 
V  °ld  partner,  Thompson, — when  we  were 
practicing  together  down  at  Hog  Wallow.  He  had 
a  case  of  chill  and  fever  that  gave  him  a  lot  of 
trouble.  He  had  done  for  it  about  all  that  could  be 
done,  but  the  chills  wouldn't  stay  broke  more'n 
about  three  weeks.  One  day  we  were  sitting  in  the 
office  criticising  Dan'els'  last  editorial  in  the  "Bed 
Back,"  Texas  Medical  Journal,  and  Thompson  was^ 
telling  about  a  case  he  had  cured  after  everybody  j 
else  had  given  it  up, — when  in  comes  his  ague  case."* 

"Well,  Doc/'  says  he,  with  a  most  woe-begone 
expression;  "I  had  another  one  of  them  shakin' 
agers  yistiddy." 

"Well,  Lorenzo,"  said  Thompson,  throwing  him 
self  back  with  an  air,  and  sticking  his  thumbs  in 
the  arm  holes  of  his  vest,— "I'll  tell  you  what  you 
do :  You  know  that  big  spring  down  back  of  your 
house  ?  The  run,  you  know,  always  keeps  up  a  big 
251 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

damp  place  there;  that's  the  cause  of  your  chills; 
it's  malaria,  you  know.  Now,  you  plant  sunflowers 
all  down  that  spring  branch;  sunflowers  absorb  all 
the  malaria,  you  know  ;  that  will  break  'em  up  sure 
pop  ;  never  knew  it  to  fail." 

"Lor,  shucks,  Doc,"  said  Lorenzo,  with  a  cadav 
erous  smile,  —  "that  spring  run's  been  growed  up 
with  them  sunflowers  for  four  years  and  more;  — 
acres  of  um." 

"Damn  it,"  said  Thompson,  —  "then  cut  'em 
down." 


Jfi 


HALCYON  DAYS. 


I     SEE  by  the  papers,  said  our  Genial  Visitor,  that 
today  is   Commencement   Day   at   the   Texas 
Medical  College.     Dan'els,  do  you  ever  think 
of  the  time  when  you  got  your  sheep-skin  ?    To  me 
it  was  one  of  the  most  trying  ordeals  of  my  life, 
except,  perhaps,  that  time  when  the  yankees  killed 
me,  and  I  reckon  it's  the  same  with  most  boys.  "In 
the  spring  time  the  young  man's  mind  lightly  turns 
to  thoughts  of  love,"  says  Tennyson;  but  the  aver 
age  medical  student  crams  on  Smith's  Compend, 
and   prepares   for   examination.    With   hesitation, 
252 


HALCYON    DAYS. 

trepidation  and  perspiration,  he  approaches  that 
green  baize  door  which,  veiling  his  future,  conceals 
a  terror  in  the  shape  of  a  bald-headed  professor,  in 
whose  hands  hangs  the  destiny  of  many  fellers, 
each,  not  by  a  thread,  but  by  a  string — of  hard 
questions.  "Happy  they,  the  happiest  of  their 
kind,"  to  whom  Pat,  the  janitor,  hands  a  long  round 
tin  box  next  day,  while  with  a  grin,  he  suggestively 
protrudes  his  left  hand  for  the  expected  fee,  never 
less  than  a  V. 

Who  so  proud,  then,  as  they, — the  fledglings, — 
the  new  born  medicos  ?  as  when  next  they  meet,  the 
old,  familiar  "Tom"  and  "Harry77  are  dropped,  and 
it's  "Good  morning,  Doctor;  accept  my  congrats. 
Didn't  old  Blimber  make  a  fellow  sweat?'' 

"Oh,  pshaw,  Doctor,  he  was  nothing  to  old  Bones 
when  he  got  me  on  the  ligaments.  I  was  up-to- 
date,  tho',  you  bet;  crammed.  So  long,  Doctor." 

(Another  two)  : 

"Ah,  good  morning,  Doctor ;  got  through,  I  hear. 
Yes,  it  was  tough.  Be  on  hand  tonight,  of  course, 
with  your  swallow  tail."  (Exit.) 

The  palpitating  part  of  it  had  only  begun,  how 
ever,  in  the  green  room.  (How  provokingly  old 
Bones  did  grin  when  he  asked  them  to  "give  him 
the  ligaments  of  the  neck.")  All  those  young  M. 
D/s  have  to  stand  the  battery  of  bright  eyes  tonight 
at  the  Opera  House ;  and  in  that  large  and  fashion 
able  audience,  ail  a-flutter  with  fans  and  fur-be- 
lows,  every  young  feller  has  a  bright  particular  pair 
253 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

of  eyes  that  to  him  look  like  the  rising  sun,  as  he 
steps  out  in  response  to  his  name  to  get  his  sheep 
skin;  while  to  the  owner  of  said  pair  of  rising-sun 
orbs,  that  particular  name  on  the  program,  it  may 
even  be  "Grubs," — blazes  with  a  holy  light,  quite 
eclipsing  all  the  others.  (And  the  band  played 
Annie  Laurie.) 

Then,  the  first  time  she  calls  Harry  "Doctor,"— 
oh,  not  for  the  crown  of  an  Indian  prince  would  he 
exchange  that  proud  title.  (We've  been  there,  tho' 
it  was  in  the  long,  long  ago,  memory  brings  back 
the  days  that  are  no  more.) 

And,  at  the  ball ;  and  after  the  ball ;  what  "med 
icine,"  (heart  excitants,  mostly,  I  fear),  is  talked, 
as,  arm  in  arm,  each  happy  couple  promenades  be 
neath  the  vine-clad  trellis,  or —  — drop  the  cur 
tain  here;  the  "sweetness"  of  that  "faithful  watch 
dog's  honest  bark,"  that  Byron  tells  us  about,  "bay 
ing  deep  mouthed  welcome,"  as,  in  after  years  we 
"draw  near  home," — any  rainy  dark  night,  after  a 
ten-mile  ride  for  a  bare  "thankee,"  is  just  only 
brown  sugar  to  double  distilled  saccharine,  com 
pared  to  the  bliss  of  those  moments,  spent  with 
Dulcinea  the  first  evening  he  wore  his  title  and  his 
pigeon-tailed  coat;  as  they  told  and  listened  'neath 
the  umbrageous  shades  of  those  grand  old  oaks,  to 
the  old,  old  tale;  it  is  always  the  same;  told  with 
variations  often,  perhaps,  but  always  the  same  old 
tale, — and  ever  new;  told  with  the  eyes;  for  "the 
heart  doth  speak  when  the  lips  move  not," — so  that 
254 


HALCYON    DAYS. 

when  flashed  from  a  woman's  eyes,,  even  a  savage 
can  comprehend  "two  souls  with  but  a  single 
thought/'  etc.  Ah,  me;  would  I  were  a  boy  again, 
— or,  rather,  a  young  doctor,  sprouting  his  first 
mustache.  How  much  medicine  we  did  know  at 
that  time,  good  gracious.  "The  wonder  grew/' 
sure  enough  with  me,  that  "one  small  head  could 
carry"  it. 

Now,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  a  joke  about  that  same 
head.  I  havn't  got  a  small  head;  I've  got  a  big 
head. 

About  six  years  subsequent  to  the  events  I'm  tell 
ing  about  (that  is,  the  occasion  on  which  I  received 
my  diploma),  I  was,  myself,  a  professor,  and  had 
to  ask  the  boys  hard  questions ;  I  was  "Old  Bones" 
myself.    One  day  coming  out  of  the  hospital  where 
I  had  just  been  lecturing, — I  had  on  a  new  spring 
style  hat.     One  of  the  students  admired  it,  and 
asked  to  look  at  it.    I  took  it  off  and  handed  it  to 
him.     He  tried  it  on,  and  it  came  down  over  his 
ears.    The  boys  laughed  at  him,  and  he  remarked : 
"Doctor,  you  have  a  very  large  head." 
I  said :  "Yes,  larger  than  the  average,  I  believe." 
One  young  scamp  looked  roguishly  out  the  cor 
ners  of  his  eyes  at  me  and  said,  slyly : 
"It's  a  little  swelled,  aint  it,  Doctor  ?" 
Well,  yes;  I  believe  now  that  it  was  swelled.     I 
can  look  back  at  that  period  of  my  life, — in  fact,  at 
most  of  it,  and  realize  what  a  fool  I  was.    I  do  think 
now  that  it  was  a  mercy  that  the  fool-killer  never 
255 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

got  me,  and  sometimes  I  think  it's  a  pity  he  didn't. 

But  I've  digressed.  I  was  saying  that  in  our 
young  days  we  are  very  conceited,  and  think  we 
know  a  great  deal  of  medicine.  It  takes  an  average 
lifetime  to  find  out  that  we  dont  know  anything 
worth  mentioning,  as  Dickens  said  of  Mr.  Bailey's 
nose ;  he  had  none  "worth  speaking  of."  Somehow, 
one's  head  seems  to  leak  medical  knowledge,  as  the 
bones  harden  and  the  sutures  close  up.  Just  the 
reverse  of  what  we  would  expect, — but  it  is  a  fact. 
I  think  most  doctors  of  my  age  will  admit  it, — the 
older  we  get  the  less  we  know.  Crowded  out, 
p'raps,  to  make  room  for  a  recollection  of  our  un- 
collected  bills  (or  our  unpaid  ones),  or  by  family 
cares,  and  calculations  how  we  are  to  make  a  $2  fee 
buy  shoes  and  stockings  for  the  baby,  and  a  new 
bonnet  for  the  dear  wife,  she  of  the  sunrise  eyes  of 
long  ago. 

Ah,  yes;  springtime  is  "commencement"  time; 
and  the  output  of  the  new  issue  of  (I  like  to  have 
said  "green-backs,"  or  "government  bonds,"  so  ab 
sorbed  was  I  in  studying  out  the  above  financial 
sphynx),  the  output  of  the  new  generation  of  doc 
tors  is  large.  I  have  not  kept  a  memorandum  of 
the  total,  each  college  is  making  them  by  the  score, 
out  of  raw  material  (very  raw,  some  of  it),  that 
beyond  a  doubt,  will  make  the  future  Sir  Andrew 
Clark,  the  S.  D.  Gross,  the  Austin  Flint  and  the 
Marion  Sims  of  the  next  generation. 

To  them  all;  to  those  who  are  properly  imbued 
256 


HALCYON    DAYS. 

with  the  love  of  science ;  who  have  chosen  medicine 
not  as  a  money-getter  alone,  I  say, — "aim  Inigh." 
What  was  possible  to  the  poor  Southern  boy,  Sims, 
Wyeth,  Nott;  or  to  the  lamented  Quimby,  or  Jno. 
B.  Hamilton, — a  farmer's  boy, — is  possible  to  you. 
Do  not  put  away  your  books  now  that  you  have  your 
diploma;  you  have  only  graduated, — you  have  not 
finished, — you  have  only  begun,  prepared  yourself 
to  study  and  learn.  Today  is  truly  your  "Com 
mencement"  day.  "Drink  deep,  or  touch  not  the 
Pierian  spring."  Let  not  alone  the  sunrise  eyes  of 
your  beloved  inspire  you ;  determine  to  win  for  her 
a  place  where  in  after  years,  she  may  not  be 
ashamed  of  her  young  doctor.  "The  hill  whereon 
Fame's  proud  temple  shines  afar"  is  hard  to  climb ; 
but  it  has  been  climbed.  What  others  can  do,  you 
can  do;  so,  my  dear  boys  (I  beg  pardon),  dear 
young  doctors, — aim  high ! 

But  after  the  new  has  rubbed  off;  after  a  life  of 
toil,  too  often  thankless,  most  often  unremunera- 
tive,  things  look  a  little  different  to  the  doctor,  dont 
they,  Dan'els?  You  know;  you've  been  through 
the  mill;  so've  I. 

Now,  by  contrast  (I've  just  given  you  fellers  a 
glimpse  of  the  panorama  as  she  spread  out  at  the 
start),  I'll  give  you  a  picture  drawn  later  in  life. 
I'm  reminded  of  it  by  the  foregoing  reminiscences 
of  commencement  day.  This  thing  I'm  a  giving 
you  now, — here,  Hudson,  read  this, — was  written 
by  yours  truly  for  a  young  lady  whom  I  thought  a 
257 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

heap  of,  one  time.  She  jokingly  said  that  doctors 
"put  on"  a  good  deal;  that  it  was  all  stuff  about 
their  having  a  hard  time,  etc.  Just  for  fun  I  wrote 
this  for  her,  and  my  wife  got  hold  of  it,  and  like 
everything  else  I  ever  wrote,  she,  kind,  trusting 
soul,  thought  it  was  "smart."  (Hudson  reads)  : 

THE  DOCTOR'S  LAMENT. 

(TO  HIS  LADY  LOVE.) 

That's  what  I  called  it,  said  the  Old  Doctor, 
before  Hudson  began  to  read;  but  it  might  appro 
priately  be  called  "Days  that  wasn't  quite  so  hal 
cyon," — eh,  Dan'els?  (Hudson  reads)  : 

"Your  life  leads  down  by  peaceful,  tranquil  rivers 
Whose  shady  bank  the  cool  sea  breeze  invites ; 
While  mine, — alas,  is  spent  'midst  torpid  livers, — 
And  similar  sad  and  melancholy  sights. 

To  you  the  perfumed  air  is  rich  with  sounds 

As  sweet  as  when  first  Sappho's  harp  was  strung; 

While  I,  in  sun  and  dust  must  take  my  weary  rounds 
To  feel  a  pulse,  or  view  a  coated  tongue. 

The  choicest  books  beguile  your  leisure  hours. 

And  soothe  to  sleep,  or  wake  to  sympathetic  tears ; 

But  woe  is  me, — I  spend  my  feeble  powers 

'Midst  fever's  fervid  heat,  or,  checking  diarrhoeas. 

You  sleep  in  peace  on  soft  and  downy  beds, 

And  dream,  perhaps,  of  flowers  in  sun-lit  lands ; 

While  I,  no  doubt,  am  soothing  aching  heads, 
Or  humbly  giving  aid  by  pulling  hands. 

258 


HALCYON    DAYS. 

Your  lovers  kneel  before  you  in  rapturous  adoration, 
And  tales  of  love  in  mellifluous  measures  pour ; 

Creditors  besiege  me; — they  are  my  abomination, 
And  moneyless  patients  daily  throng  my  office  door. 

Thy  gentle  pen,  anon,  the  choicest  thoughts  indite, 
That    dwell    within    thy    gentle    breast,    or    tender 
mem'ry  fosters; 

Prescriptions,  I,  with  stubby  pencil  write: — 
'Recipe:    misce  et  fiat  haustus.' 

Riches  I  bring  thee  not,  to  pride's  exactions  fill, 

Nor  offer  thee,  as  I  could  wish,  a  handsome  marriage 
portion ; 

Wilt  thou  despise  my  only  store, — a  pill? 

Or  deign  to  take,  perchance,  a  pharmaceutical  lotion? 

Alas,  alas,  my  lady  love,  I  tire  indeed  of  these 

Old  scaly  scalps  of  seborrhoea  and  eczematous  hands ; 

Let's  trim  our  sails  to  catch  an  outward  breeze, 
And  endosmose  in  pleasant  foreign  lands, — 

Away  beyond  the  seas,  on  some  peaceful,  starlit  isle, 

Where  rythmic  wavelets  break  on  coral  strands ; 
There,  there'll  be  no  more  fever,  pus  nor  bile, — 

And  a'down  the  happy  years  we'll  pull  each  other's 
hands." 

259 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 


THE  DOCTOR  SEEKS  COMFORT  IN  THE 
BIBLE.— WHAT  HE  FOUND. 


DAN'ELS,  said  our  jolly,  fat  friend,  as  he 
dropped  lazily  into  our  easy  chair  this 
sultry  afternoon,  and  wheeled  himself  in 
front  of  the  electric  fan,  do  you  ever  read  the  Bible  ? 

"Cert,"  said  I,  too  much  overcome  by  the  heat 
of  the  weather,  and  the  coolness  of  our  visitor,  act 
ing  alternately  on  our  sensibilities,  to  even  finish 
the  sentence;  but  added  mentally,  "what  do  you 
take  us  for?"— "Why,  Doctor?" 

Oh,  nothing,  said  the  Doctor,  as  he  touched  the 
button  of  our  electric  "hand-em-around,"  which  we 
had  recently  put  in,  and  helped  himself  to  a  twenty- 
five  cent  Havana,  which  we  keep  on  hand  only  for 
paying  subscribers;  only  I  was  thinkin7.  I  have 
heard  the  dear,  good,  old  people  say  there  is  a  deal 
of  comfort  in  the  Bible, — and,  recently,  I  was  feel 
ing  very  uncomfortable, — in  fact,  I  was  sick,  and 
thought  I  was  going  to  die ;  I  was  scared,  I  reckon, 
and  I  got  down  the  Bible  and  began  to  look  for 
comfort;  but — here  the  Doctor  sighed,  and  shut 
ting  his  eyes,  evidently  was  deriving  comfort  from 
the  fragrant  weed. 

"Didn't  you  find  it?"  I  inquired. 

Find  nothin'.  There  was  mostly  "begittin's"  and 
"begots"  in  the  part  I  read;  and  there  aint  much 
comfort  in  that, — to  the  other  feller, — is  there, 
260 


SEEKS   COMFORT   IN    THE    BIBLE. 

Darnels?  and  he  chuckled  a  good  natured  chuckle 
and  went  on : 

But  I  found  something  there  that  set  me  to 
thinking ;  Daniels,  what  are  mandrakes  ? 

"Podophyllum  peltatum,  commonly  called  May- 
apple;  purgative; — plenty  of  'em  in  Mississippi, 
where  you  and  I  came  from;  ask  us  something 
hard/'  said  I,  holding  up  from  proof  reading  a 
moment ;  "why,  Doctor  ?" 

You  are  away  off  about  your  podophyllum,  Dan- 
'els,  said  he.  Mandrakes,  in  Bible  days,  at  least, 
were  something  valued  very  highly,,  especially  by 
the  women  folks. 

Well,  I'll  tell  you  the  story,  and  then  you'll  see 
what  I'm  driving  at. 

It's  the  30th  chapter  of  Genesis.  You  know 
Jacob  got  stuck  on  his  uncle's  little  daughter, 
Rachel, — Miss  Rachel  Laban,  was  her  name, — and 
made  it  all  right  with  her,  but  the  old  man  was 
close  at  a  bargain,  and  he  made  Jake  serve  him, 
'tending  cattle,  etc.,  seven  years,  before  he  would 
agree  to  the  marriage;  and  then  put  up  a  job  on 
him.  When  the  seven  years  were  out,  the  old  man 
shoved  the  oldest  daughter  off  on  him,  Miss  Leah. 
Of  course,  Jacob  kicked,  but  the  old  man  says,  says 
he:  " 

'"Why,  Jake,  you  soft  head, — didn't  you  know 
'twas  unlawful  to  give  the  youngest  daughter  in 
marriage  before  the  older  sister  had  stepped  off? 
Go  to." 

261 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

So,  Jake  took  him  at  his  word,  and  went  the  two, 
as  we  will  see  presently,  as  it  was  agreed,  if  he 
would  serve  another  seven  years,  he  could  have 
Rachel  also,  and  it  came  to  pass;  in  seven  years 
more  he  got  the  one  he  was  after,  and  shook  Miss 
Leah. 

Meantime,  however,  Leah  had  a  nice  little  boy 
named  Eeuben,  and  by-and-bye,  when  Jacob  and 
Eachel  were  dwelling  together  in  bliss  and  har 
mony  (and  a  tent,  I  suppose),  and  poor  Leah,  the 
cast-off,  was  scuffling  for  a  living,  with  no  one  to 
help  her  but  little  Eeube, — something  happened, 
with  mandrakes  in  it.  The  Bible  records  it,  and  it 
must  be  so,  and  it  must  be  very  important;  that's 
what's  puzzling  me. 

In  the  14th  verse,  chapter  30,  of  Genesis,  it  says : 

"And  at  harvest  time,  in  the  wheat  fields,  Eeuben 
found  some  mandrakes,  and  took  them  to  his 
mother."  Eachel  says :  "Give  me  of  thy  son's  man 
drakes."  Leah  says :  "Is  it  no  small  matter  that 
thou  hast  taken  away  my  husband,  that  thou 
wouldst  take  away  also  now  my  son's  mandrakes  ?" 
"Therefore"  (there/or,  I  suppose),  he  shall  lie  with 
you  tonight,"  says  Eachel.  "Done,"  says  Leah.  So, 
late  that  evening,  when  Leah  saw  Jacob  returning 
from  the  field,  she  ran  out  to  meet  him,  and  says, 
says  she : 

"See  here ;  you  have  to  stay  with  me  tonight,  for 
I  have  hired  you  with  my  son's  mandrakes." 

"Tut,  tut,  Doctor ;  hold  up  there.  What  are  you 
262 


SEEKS   COMFORT   IN   THE    BIBLE. 

giving  us?"  said  Bennett,  Hudson  and  I,  all  in 
chorus, — while  the  office  boy  went  into  a  paroxysm 
of  dry  grins. 

Fact,  says  the  jolly  doctor.  Now,  what  are  man 
drakes?  What  did  Rachel  want  with  them  so  bad 
that  she  was  willing  to  lend  her  husband  to  a  rival 
woman  for  just  a  few  of  them  ? 

As  showing  they  were  not  the  May-apple,  as  you 
say,  which  ripens  in  May, — Reuben  found  them  in 
harvest  time,  which  must  have  been  in  August  or 
September;  and  as  illustrating  the  value  of  them, 
in  addition  to  the  fact  of  hiring  out  her  husband 
for  them, — Leah  rated  them  of  value  next  to  her 
husband, — she  says : 

"You  have  taken  my  husband;  now,  would  you 
take  away  also  my  son's  mandrakes?" 

As  a  man  would  say :  "You  have  taken  my  houses 
and  lands,  now,  will  you  take  also  my  cattle  and 
horses  and  money  ?"  He  wouldn't  say :  "You  have 
taken  my  land  and  houses,  now  would  you  take 
away  also  my  cat?"  If  mandrakes  had  been  some 
trifle,  Rachel  would  have  offered  some  trifle  for 
them,  and  not,  the  very  first  pop,  offered  that  which 
was  dearest  to  her, — it  usually  is  to  most  women, — 
her  husband's  caresses. 

Now,  I've  got  an  idea,  continued  the  fat  Old  Doc 
tor,  as  he  touched  the  other  electric  button,  and 
poured  himself  out  a  sherry  cobbler  with  ice  in  it, 
and  a  straw,  from  our  other  patent  electric  auto 
matic  dumb  waiter,  which  the  Journal,,  like  all 
263 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  SURGEON. 

other  truly  wealthy  people  keeps  for  the  conven 
ience  of  callers  at  our  sanctum.  Fm  of  the  opinion 
that  it  was  a  "yarb"  of  some  kind, — good  for  fe 
male  complaints,  and  that  Rachel  was  the  original 
Lydia  E.  Pinkham,,  the  concocter  of  the  celebrated 
"vegetable  compound." 

I  can  imagine  now,  with  my  eyes  shut,  her  ad 
vertisement  in  the  Judah  Herald,  or  the  Canaan 
Evening  News,  something  like  this : 

"Mrs.  Rachel  Jacobs  (nee  Laban),  announces  to 
her  suffering  female  friends  and  the  world  at  large, 
that  she  has,  at  an  enormous  sacrifice,  obtained  a 
supply  of  fresh  mandrakes,  which  she  has  put  into 
her  justly  celebrated  vegetable  compound,  and  now 
offers  it  at  a  dollar  a  bottle  (6  bottles  for  $5); 
warranted  to  cure  all  female  complaints,  etc..  etc. 
Get  the  genuine." 

If  not,  Dan'els,  what  are  mandrakes,  and  what 
do  you  think  of  the  incident  recorded  in  Genesis? 

With  that  the  good  doctor  unlimbered,  and  tak 
ing  his  feet  off  of  the  desk,  slowly  got  up  to  leave, 
and  looking  back  over  his  shoulder,  said : 

"If  you  find  out  about  those  mandrakes,  let  me 
know.  Fm  going  to  search  the  Scriptures  again; 
there's  no  telling  what  I  may  find.  Ta-ta,  Dan'els ; 
so  long,  boys ;  see  you  again." 

And  the  sunshine  went  out  with  him. 
264 


RECOLLECTIONS 


of  the  days  when  the  fluid  extract  of  Ergot 
was  the  best  form  of  the  drug,  are  always 
associated  with  frequent  failure  to  act  as 
an  oxytocic,  disturbance  of  the  stomach 
and  abscess  when  used  subcutaneously. 
Recollections  of  the  use 


OF  ERGOTOLE.... 


are  always  pleasant  because  it  never  fails 
to  act — it  never  disturbs  the  stomach — it 
never  causes  abscess. 


SHARP  &  DOHME 

Baltimore 
Chicago  New  York 

e  samples  to  physicians. 


•BB a ••••••••••• BBBBHHHIB 


BOVIIMINE 


BOVININE  has  hitherto  been  introduced  to  the  medical  profession 
only  and  iy  a  STANDARD  PREPARATION  with  physicians  and  sur 
geons.  Acting  upon  the  suggestion  and  advice  of  many  medical  men,  we 
now  bring  it  directly  to  the  notice  of  the  general  public,  and  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  at  once  inspire  confidence,  for  it  is  unnecessary  to  ask  you 
to  accept  our  unsupported  statements  regarding  its  merits. 

BOVININE  has  been  prescribed  by  thousands  of  medical  men  dur 
ing  the  past  20  years,  and  has  received  the  strongest  professional  endorse 
ments  possible.  We,  therefore,  have  much  pleasure  in  referring  to  any 
member  of  the  medical  profession  who  has  given  it  a  trial,  as  to  its  great 
food  value  and  reliability.  In  presenting  you  with  this  sample  bottle 
and  pamphlet,  we  desire  to  state  at  the  outset  that  we  do  not  wish  to 
make  you  think  you  are  ill  and  must  take  BQVININE,  but  simply  to  let 
you  know  that  there  is  such  a  preparation,  and  what  it  really  is.  If  at  any 
time  you  are  unable  to  derive  sufficient  nourishment  from  the  food  you 
are  taking,  on  account  of  imperfect  digestion,  lack  of  proper  assimilation, 
or,  from  any  cause,  you  may,  if  so  inclined,  give  BOVININE  a  trial  and 
satisfy  yourself  that  it  is  what  we  claim  for  it,  before  purchasing  a  sup 
ply.  It  will  keep  perfectly  for  almost  any  length  of  time,  even  after  the 
bottle  has  been  opened  (provided  it  is  properly  corked),  and  you  can, 
therefore,  use  when  needed,  or  give  it  to  some  one  to  try  at  once. 

BOVININE  is  made  by  a  COLD  PROCESS,  for  in  this  way  only 
is  it  possisible  to  preserve  the  nutrient  properties  of  fresh,  lean  beef. 
Heat  brings  out  a  cooked-meat  taste,  but  DESTROYS  THE  FOOD 
VALUE  of  meat  preparations  so  produced,  leaving  the  product  simply  a 
stimulant  and  relish,  suitable  for  making  soups,  gravies,  etc.,  but  in  no 
sense  worthy  the  name  of  food. 

BOVININE  is  invaluable  in  MAIL-NUTRITION,  Indigestion  and 
every  form  of  DYSPEPSIA,  ANJEMIA  (bloodlessness),  NERVOUS 
PROSTRATION,  SLEEPLESSNESS,  MENTAL  DEPRESSION, 
LOSS  OF  APPETITE,  WASTING  DISEASES,  CONVALESCENCE, 
etc.  CONSUMPTIVES  and  CHRONIC  INVALIDS  often  find  it  the 
only  food  capable  of  sustaining  the  system. 

Asa  rapid  restorative  after  INFLUENZA  it  is  of  the  greatest  pos 
sible  value.  Its  ability  to  repair  waste  and  make  new  and  pure  blood  is 
unequaled,  and  the  results  obtained  from  its  use  are  so  prompt  and  pro 
nounced  as  to  be  a  surprise  to  all. 

XtOVININE  is  an  IDEAL  INFANT  FOOD.  Try  5  or  10  drops  in 
baby's  bottle  of  milk  and  watch  the  effect. 

Although  BOVININE  is  the  most  concentrated  and  nutritious  prep 
aration  of  meat  on  the  market,  it  is  as  well  by  far  the  cheapest. 

All  druggists.  Yours  faithfully, 


THE  BOVININE  Co. 


t 


FIVE-GRAIN  TABLETS 


The  name  itself  suggests  what  Antikamnia  is,  and  what  its  remedial  prop 
erties  are:— Anti  (Greek-AvTi) ,  'Opposed  to,  and  Kamnia  (Greek- 
Pain— therefore,  "ANTIKAMNIA"  (Opposed  to  Pain)— a  remedy  to  relieve 
pain  and  suffering. 

In  certainty  and  celerity  of  action,  it  has  been  found  superior,  especially 
in  cases  of  Acute  and  Chronic  Neuralgia.  In  Facial  Neuralgia,  Neuralgic 
Toothache,  Tic-Douloureux,  Myalgia,  Migraine,  Hemicrania,  and  all  forms 
of  Headache,  It  relieves  the  pain  in  a  remarkably  short  time,  and  in  no  in 
stance  have  any  evil  after-effects  developed.  The  chief  claim  advanced  in 
favor  of  Antikamnia  Tablets  over  all  other  products  is,  that  their  use  is  not 
followed  by  depression  of  or  bad  effect  on  the  heart. 

The  dose  for  adults,  which  always  gives  relief  in  severe  headaches, 
especially  those  of  lawyers,  students,  bookkeepers,  clerks,  mothers,  sales 
women,  teachers  and  nurses,  in  short,  all  headaches  caused  by  anxiety  or 
mental  strain,  is  two  tablets,  followed  by  a  swallow  of  water  or  wine.  It  is 
the  remedy  for  LaGrippeand  grippal  conditions.  As  a  preventive  of  and 
cure  for  nausea  while  traveling  by  railroad  or  steamboat,  and  for  genuine  tnal 
de  mer  or  sea  sickness,  Antikamnia  Tablets  areunsurpassed,  and  are  recom 
mended  by  the  Surgeons  of  The  White  Star,  Cunard  and  American  Steam 
ship  Lines.  Employment  in  or  living  in  hot  and  poorly  ventilated  offices, 
workshops  or  rooms,  are  among  the  most  prolific  causes  of  headache,  as 
well  as  of  heat  exhaustion  and  sunstroke.  For  these  headaches  and  for  the 
nausea  which  often  accompanies  them,  Antikamnia  Tablets  will  be  found  to 
afford  prompt  relief.  Insomnia  from  solar  heat  is  readily  overcome  by  one  or 
two  five-grain  tablets  at  supper  time,  and  again  before  retiring,  if  needed. 

A  five-grain  Antikamnia  Tablet  before  starting  on  an  outing,  and  this 
Includes  tourists,  picnickers,  bicyclers,  and  in  fact,  anybody  who  is  out  in 
the  sun  and  air  all  day,  will  entirely  prevent  that  demoralizing  headache 
which  frequently  mars  the  pleasure  of  such  an  occasion.  This  applies 
equally  to  women  on  shopping  tours,  and  especially  to  those  who  come  home 
out  of  sorts.with  a  wretched"  sight-seer's  headache."  The  nervous  headache 
and  irritable  condition  of  the  busy  business  man  is  prevented  by  the  timely 
use  of  a  five-grain  tablet.  Every  bicycle  rider,  after  a  hard  run,  should 
take  two  five-grain  tablets  on  going  to  bed.  In  the  morning  he  will  awake 
minus  the  usual  muscular  pains,  aches  and  soreness.  As  a  cure  and  pre 
ventive  of  the  pains  peculiar  to  women  at  time  of  period,  Antikamnia  Tablets 
are  unequalled  and  unaccompanied  by  unpleasant  after-effect.  If  the  pain 
is  over  the  lower  border  of  the  liver,  or  lower  part  of  the  stomach,  or  in 
short,  be  it  headache,  sideache,  backache,  or  pain  of  any  other  description 
caused  by  suppressed  or  irregular  menstruation,  it  will  yield  to  two  five- 
grain  tablets.  This  dose  may  be  repeated  in  an  hour  or  two,  if  needed. 
For  very  prompt  relief,  it  is  advisable  to  crush  the  tablets  and  swallow  them 
with  a  little  wine,  or  toddy.  A  dozen  "Five-Grain  Antikamnia  Tablets" 
obtained  from  your  druggist  and  kept  about  the  house,  will  always  be  found 
useful  in  time  of  pain. — The  Magazine  of  Medicine. 

Genuine  Antikamnia  Tablets  always  bear  the  /K  Monogram 

GOOD   DRUGGISTS   OFFER   NO  SUBSTITUTES 


THE  ANTIKAMNIA  CHEMICAL  COMPANY 
ST.  LOUIS,  U.  S.  A. 

46,  Eolborn  Viaduct,  LONDON.  &>  5,  Sue  de  la  Paix,  PASIS. 


1885.  The  "RED  BACK."  1900. 

•  • 

I  THE  TEXAS  MEDICAL  JOURNAL  I 

+  + 

^  /s  the  Popular  Medical  Journal  of  the  Southwest.  W 

^  A  free-lance  that  goes  for  the  Quacks,  in  as  well  as  out  of  the  ^ 

^  profession.    Independent  in  all  things,  neutral  in  nothing  ^ 

^  that  pertains  to  the  advancement  of  Legitimate  Medicine.  <£. 

A  Subscription  One  Dollar  a  year  in  advance.  ^ 

4-  -  4 

^  Owned,  Edited  and  Published  Monthly  by  ^ 

Drs.   F.   E.   Daniel  and  S.   E.   Hudson, 

<  Austin,   Texas. 


1^°  "Dr.  Daniel's  reputation  as  a  writer  is  as  wide  as  the    ^ 
land."  —  American  Journal  of  Surgery  and  Gynecology.  ^ 

i^  "Dr.  Daniel's  sense  of  humor  is  certainly  as  sharp  as  a  ^ 

lance,  and  his  pages  fairly  twinkle  with  brightness.    His  JL 
manner  of  making  men  and  things  the  butt  of  ridicule  at  will 

is  well  nigh  inimitable."  —  Medical  Progress.  ^ 

t^  "Dr.  Daniel,  as  editor  of  the  "Ked  Back,"  the  Texas 
Medical  Journal,  has  done  some  of  the  best,  brightest  and  most   4 
original  work  done  by  any  member  of  the  editorial  guild  med-    A- 
ical.    There  may  come  a  time  when  he  may  be  dead,  but  dull, 
—  never."—  Medical  Mirror. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 
LOAN  DEPT. 


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